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YOPP Y 

The Autobiography of a Monkey 










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Illustrated. Animal 


Autobiographical Series 


YOPPY 

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MONKEY 


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MolUe Lee Cli-fford 

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H M Caldwell Co. 

BOSTON - NEW YORK 

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Copyright, igcxs 
By H. M. Caldwell Co. 



COLONIAL PRESS 

EUcirotyPed and Printed by C. H. Simonds &» Co. 
Boston, U. S, A. 



TO 


MY DEAREST FRIEND 
AND THE LITTLE DAUGHTER 
WHOSE FAITH IN MAMMA’s SHIP NEVER WAVERED 
I AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATE THIS 


MY FIRST BOOK 


0 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 



PAGE 

1. 

My Native Home .... 

• 

11 

II. 

A Journey 

• 

20 

III. 

My New Home .... 

• 

28 

IV. 

Making Improvements . 

• 

38 

V. 

More Improvements 

• 

47 

VI. 

In Close Confinement . 


56 

VII. 

In the Music -room 


63 

VIII. 

“On the Road to Dingleberry” 


72 

IX. 

The Little Shop around the Corner 

81 

X. 

Getting Acquainted 


90 

XI. 

Little Deeds of Kindness . 


99 

XII. 

Little Words of Love . 


106 

XIII. 

Little Bits of Nonsense 


118 

XIV. 

Another Move .... 


127 

XV. 

What Mistress Thought of It . 


138 

XVI. 

When Apple Boughs Were Red . 


143 

XVII. 

Under Nana’s Management . 


151 

XVIII. 

A Lesson in Pie -baking 


159 

XIX. 

A Little More Rope 


167 

XX. 

In the Time of Apple Blossoms . 


176 

XXI. 

While the Summer Days Were Passing 

185 

XXII. 

In the Shanty by the Roadside 


>— * 
CD 

XXIII. 

As THE Autumn Days Came on . 


200 

XXIV. 

Those Days I Spent in Boston . 


205 



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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Yoppy ....... Frontispiece / 

“My penitent expression failed to move her ” 35-^ 

Improving the Music -room . . . .66/ 

Polly and I 92* 

I Share My Peanuts 144 

I Get a Scrubbing 175 







Y 0 P P Y 


CHAPTER 1. 

MY NATIVE HOME 

I WAS a very happy little fellow when I 
lived with my mother in the wilds of South 
America. I used to find no end of amuse- 
ment playing with my little neighbour 
monkeys among the branches of the trees, 
or swinging on the vines that grew in luxuri- 
ous abundance in our forest home. It was 
great fun to watch the wild animals prowl- 
ing through the underbrush, knowing that 
they could not catch us, no matter how they 
might try. We were especially fond of tor- 
menting the jaguars, or American tigers, 
for they are our sworn enemies. 

II 


Y O P P Y 


I used to enjoy the nuts, berries, and fruit 
that grew in our forest home. It was so 
nice to be able to gather our own fruit, and 
to have it perfectly fresh whenever we 
wanted it. 

There were hundreds of little monkeys 
like myself, and all as full of life as it is 
natural for young monkeys to be. But I 
was going to tell you my own story instead 
of that of the other monkeys. 

I loved my mother dearly; no human 
child ever loved their mother more. She was 
always anxious about me whenever I was 
out of her sight, and used to box my ears 
very often, but I dare say that I deserved it. 

Mother often warned me against being 
too venturesome, particularly against med- 
dling with any kind of a trap, and, above all 
things, she warned me to skip into the thick- 
est branches of the tree whenever I saw a 
man with a gun. 

I remember of having once seen a mother 
monkey shot; that was the way the wickal 
hunter secured the baby monkey, which the 
mother held in her arms. This seemed to 

12 


Y O P P Y 


be a favourite way for hunters to catch baby 
monkeys, for a mother monkey would never 
part with her baby so long as she had 
strength enough to hold it. Sometimes the 
baby was shot, too, which was doubly sad. 

The cruel shooting affair made my 
mother more aad and anxious about me. It 
made me serious, too, for fully half an hour; 
then I forgot all about it, and was as full 
of pranks as ever. It is not in the nature 
of a monkey to grieve over the troubles of 
others; at least, for only a short time. 

After witnessing the killing of that 
mother monkey, and the capture of her little 
son, my mother repeated her warnings all 
over again, and for the time being I was 
greatly impressed. 

We monkeys are peculiar animals, as you 
would readily believe if you were owner of 
one of us. We are always glad that we 
are living, and nothing but cruel treatment 
can sadden our hearts for any length of 
time. So, as I have said, I forgot all about 
the tragedy, and began to cut up capers, as 
was my usual habit. 

13 


Y O P P Y 


The morning following the shooting af- 
fair, I was in the highest spirits. I began 
the day by pinching my mother’s nose and 
biting her tail, whereupon she boxed my 
ears, and I yelled. My crying was of short 
duration, however; my spirits bubbled over, 
and I was up and at it once more. 

I was old enough to pick up my own 
breakfast; instinct teaches us what is good 
to eat and what isn’t, and early that partic- 
ular morning I scrambled down from my 
bed of leaves among the thick foliage of 
the tree where my mother and I always 
slept. I very soon found a breakfast which 
suited me exactly. I ate it, then sat on one 
of the lower branches, thinking what I 
should do next, when I heard the crackling 
of twigs in the underbrush. 

I leaned over the branch and saw a huge 
jaguar prowling about beneath me. I knew 
perfectly well that he was looking for his 
breakfast, and would have greatly relished 
a tender little fellow hke me, but I had no 
idea of letting him eat me, yet I could not 
resist having a little fun with him. 


14 


Y O P P Y 


I kept very quiet. I did not wish him 
to discover me, at least not at that moment. 
I waited until the beast was directly under 
the branch where I was sitting; he had not 
seen me. Slowly he made his way through 
the underbrush, sniffing the air occasionally, 
when suddenly I swung myself down, being 
careful to take a firm hold with my tail, then 
I pulled the jaguar’s ear, and was hack on 
my branch in a twinkling, while the animal 
uttered a howl of rage. To think a nice 
little monkey had been so near him, and 
he must still hunt for his breakfast! 

My mother, who had seen my perform- 
ance, called me to her, and gave me such 
a lecture as I had never heard before. I 
was impressed again for about five minutes, 
and then scrambled down the tree-trunk. 
As if I would allow one of those beasts to 
eat me 1 What could mother be thinking of ! 

Delighted with my morning’s prank, I 
left my niother crying and scolding in the 
tree -top, while I danced about on the stout 
branches as I made my descent, regardless 


15 


Y O P P Y 


of mother’s crying, scolding, or her warn- 
ings of any kind. 

Dear, dear mother! how little I thought 
when I left her in our tree-top home that 
morning, how very little I thought that I 
would never come back to her again. 

I made faces at her as I scrambled down 
the tree; I boxed the ears of a little play- 
mate as I passed him; I pulled my grand- 
father’s tail, and nearly upset him as he sat 
munching his breakfast. In my scurry to 
get away, I came very near sprawling head- 
long the remainder of the way, and, to my 
horror, the jaguar whose ear I had pulled 
was crouching beneath the tree. 

I came within an ace of being eaten alive. 
As I came sprawling down the tree-trunk, 
the jaguar opened his mouth and stood 
ready to receive me, but just then I struck 
one of the lower branches, which I grasped, 
while I regained my footing, and I decided 
at once that I had business in some other 
part of the tree. So, instead of being eaten 
alive, I made grimaces at my would-be de- 
vourer, and ran up the tree laughing and 

16 


Y O P P Y 


chattering, while mentally I congratulated 
myself on my miraculous escape. 

Away I went from one tree to another, 
chattering gleefully as I pulled down birds’ 
nests, rummaging in holes in the tree-trunks, 
and having a delightful time as I went on 
my way. Once, I must have poked my fin- 
gers too far in a tree hole, for something 
bit me. After that I was glad to keep my 
fingers and my nose out of such places, and 
decided to amuse myself by eating fruit 
and berries instead of meddling with what 
did not belong to me. 

When I had been rambling about for 
some time, I came to a clearing in the woods, 
the existence of which I had never known 
before. It was hot there, the sun poured 
down with a vengeance, but I was deter- 
mined to explore this clearing, and see all 
there was to see. 

Presently I came upon a queer-looking 
box. I had never seen anything like it, so 
I began to examine it. One of a monkey’s 
strongest characteristics is his bump of curi- 
osity. 

17 


Y O P P Y 


On making my examination, I found 
some pieces of cocoanut, and in one corner 
there was a pile of sugar. I did not know 
at the time what it was, but have learned 
since, as I have learned everything else, by 
keeping my eyes and ears open. 

Without dreaming of danger, I crawled 
into that box, and picked up a piece of the 
cocoanut. It is not often that we monkeys 
find our cocoanuts broken for us, so I was 
very much pleased at what I found. I 
tasted the sugar and found that it was good, 
then I sat down to enjoy myself. 

The box was not very large, but it was 
cool, and I began licking the sugar from 
the floor. Suddenly my head struck against 
something that dangled from the top of 
the box. I heard a click, the door shut with 
a snap, and I was a prisoner. 

I remembered my mother’s warning when 
it was too late. I tried my best to open the 
trap, but it held me firmly. I cried and 
screamed at the top of my lungs, but I was 
too far away from my tree-top home for 


18 


Y O P P Y 


my mother to hear me. Then a hunter came 
and took me away, far, far away from my 
native home, and I thought my heart would 
surely break. 


19 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER II. 

A JOURNEY 

My voyage from South America to the 
United States was anything but a pleasant 
one. I was homesick and heart-broken; I 
took very little notice of the sailors or pas- 
sengers who came to look into my prison. 
In vain they tried to make friends with me. 
I hated them all. I hated my prison home, 
and, above all, I hated my captor. 

Even the steamship on which we made 
our voyage was disagreeable. She pitched 
and rolled, and kept me jiggering from one 
side of my cage to the other; it was impos- 
sible to get a decent nap, and I heartily 
wished myself back with my mother in the 
jungle. 

When the sea was unusually rough, and 
the ship was unusually pitchy, and the sky 

20 


Y O P P Y 


was full of angry-looking clouds, while the 
wind whistled through the rigging, making 
such mournful sounds as I had never heard 
before, I always wanted my mother; at 
such times I cried for her and would not 
be comforted. 

But there came a day when the pitching 
and rolling ceased, the angry -looking clouds 
floated away, and the wind no longer 
shrieked and moaned ; the sun shone 
brightly, and far away we could see land 
once more. At last we were in New York 
harbour, and every one on board seemed to 
take a new interest in life. Even I, for the 
first time since my capture, began to take 
an interest in things about me. My captor 
took me out of my cage and carried me to 
the upper deck, where I could see every- 
thing. 

It was a glorious morning, and I enjoyed 
my breakfast of bananas, while I tried to 
take in the sights. I have not time to de- 
scribe everything I saw, but I shall always 
remember how exhilarated I felt, sitting on 
the upper deck that morning, while I 

21 


Y O P P Y 


watched the many crafts sailing up and 
down the river. Ever so many of those 
crafts had whistles ; some sounded soft, oth- 
ers were shrill, while others said, “ Tute- 
tute ’’ in the hoarsest voices. We passed 
under a mammoth bridge, and saw so many 
high buildings, and ever and ever so many 
wonderful things that I cannot remember. 
It was a memorable day. 

When our ship drew near the pier, my 
captor put me back in my cage. Then a 
small boy came along and made faces at 
me. I threw my banana peel at him. He 
laughed, so did I. I certainly was begin- 
ning to feel like myself. When our ship 
reached the pier, there was such noise and 
confusion that I longed to get out and dance 
about. I began to feel glad that I was 
living, and I am sure that the racketing on 
board the ship and on the wharf was quite 
enough to arouse a dead monkey. 

I watched with deepest interest the bright 
faces of the passengers as they hurried 
toward the gangplank. Every one seemed 
glad that the voyage was over. As I sat 

22 


Y O P P Y 


watching the hurrying crowd, I heard my 
captor say: 

“ Well, Yoppy, perhaps we had better be 
moving.’’ Whereupon he locked the door 
of my cage and started toward the gang- 
plank. 

“ So my name is to be Yoppy,” I thought. 
It was not a very pretty name, but I sup- 
posed I must answer to it. I presume my 
captor thought that anything was good 
enough for a monkey. But it did not mat- 
ter in the least what he called me, for life 
had indeed begun to be interesting. 

As we left the pier, I heard a strange 
sound. I had never heard anything like it 
before. I peeped through the bars of my 
cage, and saw what I have since learned 
was a hand-organ, and there upon the organ, 
prancing and throwing kisses to the people, 
was a little monkey exactly like myself. 

I chattered and squeaked as loudly as I 
could to attract my country fellow’s atten- 
tion. My captor carried me to where the 
other monkey stood, and I made friends with 
him on the spot. 

23 


Y O P P Y 


I learned from the organ monkey that he, 
too, was a captive ; that he had travelled with 
the organ-grinder ever since he had come 
to the country; that he did not enjoy it, and 
often actually sutFered through the thought- 
lessness and selfishness of his master. 

While we chatted, our captors grinned at 
each other, and pretended that they knew 
what we were talking about. They seemed 
much amused at the earnestness of our con- 
versation. Human beings are so easily 
amused. We were not allowed to chat a 
great while, for the organ monkey’s master 
was anxious to catch more pennies, and my 
captor was anxious to catch a train; so my 
new friend and I were obliged to part, very 
much to our disapproval. 

I saw many strange sights as I was car- 
ried through the streets of New York. 
There were no end of dirty-faced children, 
who seemed to take a great fancy to me. 
They followed us a long distance, much 
longer than I should have followed a human 
child, even if it were in a cage. As these 
children followed us, they kept up a lively 

24 


Y O P P Y 


chatter, which I enjoyed very much. They 
also made faces at me. I promptly returned 
the compliments, while they pranced after 
us, laughing and shouting in the highest 
spirits. 

When we reached the station where we 
were to take our train, I fully believed my 
last hour had come. Such roaring and thun- 
dering, rattling and banging, I had never 
before heard. But it all proved to be the 
noise from the engines, and the racket of 
the truckmen and baggagemen, and I found 
that I was much more frightened than hurt. 

The captor took me into a car where there 
were a great many people, all more or less 
interesting, whom I enjoyed watching. I 
attracted a great deal of attention, and re- 
ceived a number of gifts. One little girl, 
with long yellow curls, gave me a cookie. 
I thanked her in my own way, and began 
to nibble it, while she stood watching me. 

The cookie was very nice, so I broke off 
a bit, and, with my most engaging manner, 
offered it to the little girl. She laughed 
and drew back, as if she did not care to eat 
25 


Y O P P Y 


after me. Perhaps it was because I had 
held it between my toes while I scratched 
my back, or it might have been because she 
had more in her bag. At any rate, she re- 
fused my bit, and I ate it all without any 
help from any one. 

There were other small girls who sat near 
me. I made friends with them all. One 
gave me an apple ; another gave me a hand- 
ful of peanuts; while still another gave me 
a gum-drop, and laughed merrily when it 
stuck in my teeth, as I tried to chew it. I 
liked those little human folks very much in- 
deed, but above all I liked my little cookie 
girl best. 

I wanted to kiss her. I chatted socially 
with her. I stuck my hands through the 
bars of my cage and took hold of her hands. 
They were not at all like mine; they were 
soft and white. She only grinned when I 
wanted to kiss her; she did not seem to 
understand. I liked her so much. I cried 
when she left the train, and she herself 
seemed sorry to leave me. 

After my little friend had gone, I was 

26 


Y O P P Y 


very quiet for a long time, then I fell asleep 
and dreamed that I was back in the jungle, 
with my dear mother’s arms around me, 
and I fancied my troubles were at an end. 


27 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER III. 

MY NEW HOME 

I MUST have slept a long time that day, 
and probably would have slept longer had 
we not reached Boston, where we were to 
take another train for Hyde Park. 

Of course my nap was of no further con- 
sequence, so I sat up and rubbed my eyes. 
We were in another railroad station, where 
there was quite as much racketing as there 
had been in the station in New York. No 
wonder a monkey could not sleep. 

I did not complain, however, as there is 
something about a racket that makes me feel 
very much alive, and just then there was a 
great deal to see, — a number of men stand- 
ing in a row and shouting as if their lives 
depended on the noise they made: 

“ Kearrage! kearrage! have a kear-idge! ” 

28 


Y O P P Y 

Then the newsboys kept up their everlast- 
ing shouting; 

“Evenin’ pap-ers! Herald, Globe, Rec- 
ord!’’ 

There were boys selling pop-corn, and 
others who sold flowers, but I liked the men 
and boys who made the most noise best. 
And there were so many, many people rush- 
ing about that I really could not keep track 
of them. 

Again we got on a train and went to 
Hyde Park, where, at his brother’s, I was 
to And a new home. 

I never could understand why Mr. Ar- 
thur, of Hyde Park, made such a wry face 
as his brother presented me. He did not 
seem a mite glad to see me, while I should 
think he would have been delighted. But 
then, there is no accounting for tastes. 

“ My dear brother,” said my captor, “ you 
don’t look as if you appreciated my gift, 
and I brought him all the way from South 
America especially for you.” 

Mr. Arthur, of Hyde Park, grinned and 
answered : “ I suppose it is rather rough on 
29 


Y O P P Y 


you, Sydney, not to appreciate your gift, 
but I had no idea that you had a grudge 
against me.” A grudge, indeed! the idea! 

My captor thi^ew his head back and 
laughed. Mr. Arthur, of Hyde Park, did 
the same, then my captor said: 

“ Oh, he’s a nice little fellow; and I’m 
sure that you will enjoy him. He is very 
intelligent and very funny, and I assure 
you, my dear boy, that were I not intending 
to travel I would not think of parting from 
him. I am very fond of the little cuss.” 

“ I dare say he is cute,” answered Mr. 
Arthur, of Hyde Park, “ and I am sure 
that the children will enjoy him, but I 
am not sure how Jenny will take to him.” 

“ Oh, well, if you get tired of him, you 
can send him to some zohlogical garden, or 
give him to an organ-grinder,” concluded 
my captor, as he handed my cage to Mr. 
Arthur, of Hyde Park. 

So I became a member of the Arthur fam- 
ily, and I prepared to make the best of my 
lot, and to make due allowance for all that 
my adopted people did not know. 


30 


Y O P P Y 


Mr. Sydney Arthur stayed with me a 
few days, then went on his way; where he 
went I never knew or cared. I became very 
much attached to my new master, and we 
had no end of frolics together. He had 
such a pleasant face and voice that I could 
not help admiring him, and the expression 
of his face was such that I trusted him at 
once. 

Madam Arthur, also, was very nice, and 
the little Arthurs made delightful play- 
mates ; although they would not let me 
chew the ends of their fingers, or do some 
other things that would have been great fun 
for me. 

Every evening master used to take me 
out for a frolic. From the boys I learned 
to turn somersaults, while from the little girl 
I learned to dance a rag doll on my knee. 
I also learned to spank the rag doll, a feat 
which I always delighted in. 

I never liked the idea of being locked in 
my cage, either at night or any other time. 
I always cried when master fastened my 
door. 

31 


Y O P P Y 


One night I watched him, and learned 
how the locking was done, after which I 
was determined to help myself to liberty, 
and have a little frolic on my own hook. 

My cage stood on a small table near the 
sitting-room window. At another window 
there was a beautiful fern, which was Mis- 
tress Arthur’s great pride. I often watched 
her as she watered it and dug up the soil 
around its roots, and picked off its withered 
leaves. I resolved that if I ever got out of 
my cage, I would make such an improve- 
ment in that fern that mistress would never 
recognize it. 

I do not know why I longed to get my 
clutches on that fern. It was certainly very 
lovely as it was. It must have been the nat- 
ural tendency of my monkey nature to pull 
things to pieces. At any rate, the first time 
I found myself at liberty I went straight 
for it. 

I took special delight in bouncing into the 
middle of the plant, then I grabbed both 
hands full of the crisp, green leaves, and, 
oh, what a racket I had after that! One 

32 


Y O P P Y 


by one I stripped each graceful branch of 
its tiny green leaves. I threw handfuls into 
the air; I chewed them, I scattered them 
about, thinking all the while what a good 
time I was having. Not content with strew- 
ing the leaves about, I began digging my 
toes into the earth in which the fern had 
grown so nicely. I threw handfuls of earth 
at the lace draperies. I nearly blinded the 
cat, who was just awaking from his morn- 
ing nap. He was taking a stretch, and was 
humping his back in the air when a handful 
of dirt struck him in the eyes. You may 
readily believe that Mr. Pussy’s back came 
down in a twinkling. He looked daggers 
at me, he spit at me, and made a funny 
sound something like this: 

“Kah-ah-ah!” Then he scampered out 
of the room. 

“ Very well,” said I, “ now I shall have 
things all to myself.” 

When once more I turned my attention 
to the fern, I saw that it needed more prun- 
ing, so I proceeded to prune. There were 
still a few leaves left on the branches, and 
33 


Y O P P Y 


I stripped every one of them to my most 
entire satisfaction. 

I was sitting in the middle of what was 
left of the fern, when I heard voices in the 
music-room. It was evident that master 
was giving a music lesson to some one. He 
gave lessons on a violoncello. I had no idea 
how long the music-room had been occupied, 
as I had been so busy myself that I had not 
noted the time. I was wondering what I 
should do next when I heard the footsteps 
of my mistress. 

I was not certain how she would like the 
change I had made in her fern. To tell the 
truth, I was not sure that I liked its appear- 
ance myself, but I had had the fun of strip- 
ping it, which meant a great deal to a 
monkey. 

I had not long to wait before I learned 
what mistress thought of my performance, 
for the next instant she entered the room, 
and stood for a nioment in speechless amaze- 
ment looking at my work. She was not a 
bit pleased, and I felt sorry that I had 
caused her to look so dreadfully. I had not 

34 



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Y O P P Y 


the least intention of making my mistress 
feel bad. I had only wanted to have fun 
with that fern. 

I looked in my mistress’s face, and made 
a little noise which meant: “I am sorry; 
I did not mean to grieve you.” My peni- 
tent expression did not move her. There 
she stood as glum as an oyster. Then a 
bright thought occurred to me: I would 
make her laugh. I was sure that I would 
bring back her naturally pleasant expres- 
sion, so I tried to balance a fern leaf on 
my nose. It was no use, mistress would not 
be amused. Then I got out of patience, 
and threw a handful of dirt at her, which 
made her open her mouth and stop staring. 

“ Oh, oh, my beautiful fern! ” she wailed, 
and I began to cry. “ You bad, bad Yoppy! 
what have you done to my precious fern? ” 

“ A sensible way to take on,” I thought, 
as if she could not see what I had done to 
her precious fern, and such a fuss over a 
plant! All I have to say is, I’m very glad 
that I am not so fussy as some folks I know 
of. While mistress was fussing and lament- 
35 


Y O P P Y 


ing over her fern, the music-room door 
opened, and Master Arthur walked in. 

“ What is the matter, Jenny? ” he asked, 
in his own pleasant way. 

“ The matter is there,” said mistress, 
pointing to the fern. 

Master looked at the fern and laughed. 
Oh, how he laughed! It made me feel bet- 
ter at once, and I began to dance. Master 
went to the music-room door and called some 
one. The next moment that some one came 
into the sitting-room. Master pointed to 
me, then to the fern, and the newcomer 
laughed, even longer and louder than master 
had done. 

“ Well, Herbert, what do you think of 
him? ” master asked. 

“ I think he’s a star,” said Mr. Herbert. 
Whereupon I danced and capered about 
more than ever. 

Tears stood in the eyes of my mistress, 
as she said: “ That is the way with you men 
folks, but I’m sure that you would not laugh 
if he had destroyed anything that belonged 
to you.” 


36 


Y O P P Y 


Then she talked about keeping me se- 
curely fastened, and a lot more rubbish that 
I had not time to notice, for I was very 
much interested in Mr. Herbert. 

I knew instinctively that he was a friend 
to dumb animals. There was something ex- 
ceedingly attractive in him; something in 
his face and manner that made me wish to 
know him better. When he held out his 
hand to me and said: 

“ Come, Yoppy, come and see me,” I went 
to him at once. I looked into his eyes, and 
I trusted him. He smiled on me, and I 
snuggled up very close to his chin; he laid 
his face against mine, and called me “ a 
nice little boy.” From that day to this I 
have loved that man as I have never loved 
any other human being, and so I shall con- 
tinue to love him as long as I live. 


37 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER IV. 

MAKING IMPROVEMENTS 

A WEEK had passed since the episode of 
the fern, which Mistress Arthur persisted 
in calling its “ destruction.” Master had 
taken me out of my cage once every day 
for a frolic. The children came and went, 
as was their custom, hut nothing unusual 
had happened, a fact that made life rather 
tiresome for a lonely little fellow like me. 
We monkeys always like something stirring. 

I thought a great deal about my new 
friend, Mr. Herbert. I longed for him, and 
wondered how soon he would come back. 
Since he had cuddled me in his arms, I 
wanted very much to be cuddled again. 
There was no one in the house of Arthur 
who understood how much I wanted to be 
cuddled, though the entire family was as 

38 


Y O P P Y 


kind to me as they could be. I wanted my 
new friend, and I longed for him every 
moment. 

He came at last, very much to my delight. 
He came straight to my cage and opened 
the door. I came out at once, and crawled 
into his arms. I christened him “ Ecum ” 
on the spot. I have always called him by 
that name, and he answers to his name as 
readily as I answer to mine. 

It was a very pleasant half-hour that I 
spent with Ecum that day. He petted me 
and stroked my head; he even allowed me 
to kiss him, and did not seem to mind it in 
the least. When he went away, I cried. I 
had begged him, in my monkey way, to 
take me with him; but he said: 

“Not this time, Yoppy,” then he whis- 
pered in my ear: “ Perhaps if you destroy 
another fern, they will be glad to get rid 
of you.” 

I would have willingly destroyed a dozen 
plants, if by doing so I could have gone 
with my dear Ecum. Another week had 
passed, and I still pined for my new friend. 
39 


Y O P P Y 


I had tried very hard to unfasten my cage 
door. I had worked for hours on a new 
lock, which was only a piece of twisted wire, 
yet so securely was it fastened that it took 
all my reasoning powers to understand how 
to unfasten it. After a great deal of trou- 
ble, I succeeded in turning the troublesome 
thing around, after which I had no diffi- 
culty in untwisting it, although I was 
obliged to use my hands, feet, teeth, and 
tail. 

I drew a long breath of satisfaction when 
once more I found myself free. I looked 
about to see what I would do first. I longed 
to examine the music-room, but there were 
voices there, and I dared not attract atten- 
tion, lest my freedom should be of short 
duration. 

I did not know that it was my friend 
Ecum’s day, and that he was with master 
in the music-room. Had I known who was 
with him, I fear that I should have risked 
my liberty for just one cuddle. 

As it was, I turned my attention to the 
dining-room, the door of which stood ajar. 

40 


Y O P P Y 


At first it seemed very dark; the shades 
were drawn, so that I could not see plainly, 
but, as my eyes became accustomed to the 
semidarkness, I began to examine things. 
I jumped into a chair and looked on the 
sideboard. Here was no end of fun for 
me. I did not like the quiet coolness of the 
stately room. Monkeys never like coolness; 
we are a warmth-loving race. So I pro- 
ceeded to improve things. I might add that 
nature never intended that we monkeys 
should love order, and I was no exception 
to the rule. 

The first thing I decided was to have a 
little more light on the subject. I had seen 
the housemaid raise the shades in the sitting- 
room, so I knew perfectly well how to raise 
them in the dining-room. Once she had let 
one slip through her finger; it flew to the 
top of the window, and made a delightful 
racket. Of course, I preferred the noisy 
way of raising shades. No easy, careful 
way for me, thank you. 

It was but the work of a few moments 
to raise the shades. I took care that every 
41 


Y O P P Y 


one should go off with a bang, and every 
man Jack of them turned several somer- 
saults over the roller. 

I was delighted with the noise made by 
the “ going off ” of those shades ; it aroused 
in me the very spirit of activity. I no longer 
peeped about carefully, but went about my 
self -allotted task with a vengeance. 

The sideboard was my greatest attraction. 
Standing there against the wall so prim and 
proper, it made me feel the way I have 
heard that some children feel when in the 
presence of a prim and proper relative, — 
I wanted to do something shocking, and I 
suppose I did. 

In the centre of the sideboard stood a jar 
of roses, lovely and fragrant, but too orderly 
to suit me. I sniffed them, then one by one 
I pulled them from the jar and tore them 
to pieces. I took great pleasure in scatter- 
ing the petals about the room, then I upset 
the bowl of water. How delightfully it 
trickled over the edge of the sideboard, and 
spread itself over the immaculate cover. I 
wanted to throw the bowl on the floor, but 

42 


Y O P P Y 


I knew that it would make a noise. I also 
knew that a noise might be heard in some 
other part of the house ; besides, the curtains 
had made noise enough already. So, for the 
time being, the rose-bowl was safe. 

The silver service stood in a stately row 
at the back of the sideboard. “ I will see 
to you presently,” said I, as I drew the 
stopper from an olive-oil cruet. The oil did 
not smell very good, so I turned my atten- 
tion to the vinegar-cruet. That did not 
smell any better than the oil. 

“What next?” I thought. I lifted the 
cover from the silver teapot, and stuck my 
nose in. There was nothing in it, so I 
knocked it over. It made more noise than 
I thought it would, so I was very careful 
after that. 

When I turned about to further examine 
the silver service, I found I had been sitting 
in a dish of salted peanuts. As I preferred 
my peanuts fresh, I peeled the skin from 
every one of them, then rubbed each one 
up and down my leg; that was to remove 
the salt, of course. Then I gobbled them up, 
43 


Y O P P Y 


When I had finished eating the peanuts, 
I went to the sugar-bowl. It was half -full 
of sugar. I was sorry then that I had eaten 
so many peanuts, as I was very fond of 
sugar; but I was so full that I could not 
hold as much as I should like to have eaten. 
When I had eaten all the sugar that I had 
room for, I took the vinegar-cruet and 
poured a little vinegar into the sugar-bowl. 
To my surprise, the sugar turned a horrid 
brown colour, and sank down in the middle. 
I poured in a little more vinegar, and the 
sugar sank lower and lower in the bowl. 

Poor, poor sugar, it had lost its snowy 
whiteness. I could not understand why such 
a change should take place, and all on ac- 
count of a slop or two of vinegar. It was 
too, too bad. I was sorry for the sugar. 
I made a pitiful little sound to let the sugar 
know I was sorry, but it did no good. Then 
a bright thought occurred to me. I would 
pour in a little oil. And why not, pray? 
Had not master given me oil when I did 
not feel well? So I dumped half the con- 
tents of the oil-cruet into the sugar-bowl, — 

44 


Y O P P Y 


I was not as stingy with my dose as master 
was, — but the oil did not make any im- 
provement in the condition of the sugar. I 
tasted the mess; it was awful, so I pushed 
the sugar-bowl back in its place; then I 
poured a little oil on the sideboard cover, 
after which I looked about to see what else 
I could find to entertain me. 

A dish of chocolate bonbons was the next 
thing to catch my eye. How sorry I was 
that I had not an elephant’s stomach; so 
many good things to eat, and my stomach 
plum full. As I could not eat the bonbons, 
I nibbled a piece from the corner of each, 
and scattered them over the sideboard. 

I rolled a nougatine under my hand; it 
made long streaks of brown on the covering. 
I suppose that the dampness made the choc- 
olate come off ; at any rate, wherever the 
chocolate touched, it made a dark mark. 
By this time I was in the most delightful 
mood. I scattered the bonbons all over the 
sideboard; I danced them up and down; 
I held them in my toes, and did everything 
with them that I could think of. With 
45 


Y O P P Y 


every rub the chocolate came off freely, and 
my work of improvement went on. 

When I had tired playing with the choco- 
late drops, I stood and gazed on my work. 
There were a few other dishes on the side- 
board, but nothing more that was worthy 
of a monkey’s attention, except the tooth- 
picks. They were in a small jar, and all 
the same size. It could not be expected that 
a monkey would pass by this neat little af- 
fair without giving it a moment’s attention; 
so I chewed up a dozen or more, stuck a few 
into the chocolate drops, and threw the re- 
mainder on the floor. 

I surveyed my work again; it was highly 
satisfactory. I really had made a great 
improvement in the appearance of that side- 
board. It no longer looked prim and 
proper, and I chuckled gleefully over what 
I had done. I looked around carefully to 
see if I had neglected anything; but no, 
everything had received its proper share of 
attention, and, oh, how I had enjoyed my- 
self! 


46 


Y O P P Y. 


CHAPTER V. 

MORE IMPROVEMENTS 

Having “ done up ” the sideboard accord- 
ing to a monkey’s idea, I next turned my 
attention to the table, which was covered 
with a snowy white cloth. A dish of fruit 
stood in the centre. It looked well enough, 
but far too orderly to suit me. 

I began to dance about the fruit dish. It 
was astonishing to see how the table changed 
its immaculate appearance after I had 
danced on it. Everywhere my feet touched, 
they left tracks, — prints of monkey feet 
in chocolate-brown. It was quite evident 
that the chocolate was not all on the side- 
board, and the stickiness on my feet rum- 
pled the table-cover so that it was no longer 
spick and span. 

I was satisfied with its appearance, so I 

47 


Y O P P Y 


turned my attention to the fruit dish, which 
was filled with oranges and bananas. What 
a shame that I could eat no more! But I 
could, and did, bite a piece out of every one 
of those oranges, then I went for the bana- 
nas, and stripped them of their peeling, and 
strewed them all over the table; next I 
turned the fruit dish bottom side up, and 
sat on it, while again I surveyed my work. 

“ So far so good,” I mentally commented. 
There were the bananas with their jackets 
off ; the oranges with piece bitten from each, 
and the footprints on the table. Yes, I was 
more than satisfied with my improvements. 
I was supremely happy, and what more 
could a monkey ask? 

“ What next, I wonder,” I soliloquized, 
as I sat on the fruit dish meditating. “ The 
kitchen, of course.” Doubtless my mistress 
would think that some imp had whispered 
in my ear, but then she would have been 
mistaken. Monkeys do not need imps to 
remind them of things, and I was no excep- 
tion to the rule. So to the kitchen I went. 

I heard the housemaid’s firm steps on the 

48 


Y O P P Y 


floor above ; she always walked on her heels, 
and made a great clatter. Just then she 
was doing the up-stairs work, for which I 
was thankful. 

When I entered the kitchen, the clothes- 
horse stood there, directly in my path, so 
to the clothes-horse I paid my respects. The 
week’s washing hung on its bars, every piece 
in perfect order, according to the human’s 
idea. At each end of the horse were hung 
the dresses and petticoats, shirt-waists, and 
other things that could not be folded. Any 
one except a monkey would doubtless have 
said or thought that it was too bad to dis- 
turb such an orderly arrangement, but it did 
not trouble me in the least, so at it I went, 
and began tearing things from the bars. 

Sheets, pillow-slips, towels, napkins, ta- 
ble-cloths, and underwear, all were the same 
to me, nothing was spared, all went in a 
heap on the floor. I next bounced on the 
pile, and shook each piece out of its fold. 
Such exasperating neatness would never be 
allowed where a monkey reigned supreme. 
Being stripped of its last garment, the 
49 


Y O P P Y 


clothes-horse stood bare, while I danced 
among the rumpled clothes, and scattered 
them as well as I could over the floor. 
There was a spot of smut on the floor be- 
side the stove. I promptly wiped it up with 
a pillow-slip. Then I dragged a sheet 
across the floor, and rumpled up one of the 
long table-cloths and turned somersaults 
over it. 

Presently I heard some one coming down 
the front stairs. I knew that it was my 
mistress, and that I would soon be discov- 
ered, so I determined to make the best of 
my liberty. 

I was anxious to crowd all the action into 
the next few moments, so I jumped on to 
the kitchen table. There was a brown bag 
on the table which I had not seen before. 
In my most reckless fashion, I grasped the 
bag and tore it open ; it was filled with eggs. 

Here was an opportunity to make a 
grand finale to my morning’s escapade, and 
I embraced the opportunity. Seizing an 
egg, I looked around for a target. The 
stove funnel, bright and shining, stood be- 

50 


Y O P P Y 


fore me. It was altogether too shiny to 
suit me, so I banged an egg at it. Oh, me! 
oh, my! what a mess it made! The egg 
smashed when it struck the funnel, and 
trickled down on the stove, where it began 
to poach. I chuckled gleefully as I noted 
the white marks on the funnel. Wouldn’t 
the housemaid rave when she saw it ! 
Straight before me stood the dish closet, 
the door of which was open. I threw an- 
other egg in among the dishes; it broke, 
so I threw another; that broke, too. Then 
I pegged three more eggs at the bars of 
the clothes-horse; one fell among the clothes 
on the floor, the other two broke as they 
struck the bars, and, of course, fell on the 
clothes. Such fun! 

I was a pretty good shot, and seldom 
missed my mark. The clock stood on a shelf 
across the room. It really deserved some 
attention for its everlasting ticking. I 
aimed at the clock, and fired. The egg 
struck; there was a crash and a rattling of 
broken glass. “Great Scott!” I mentally 
commented, “ I had not reckoned on smash- 
51 


Y O P P Y 


ing its face, but the glass made a fine racket 
as it fell to the floor.” 

I was very much excited, and fairly lost 
my head. The breaking of the clock face 
brought my mistress to the dining-room. I 
heard her exclaim as she entered the room. 
I knew that my liberty was of short dura- 
tion, so I banged the eggs right and left. 

I heard mistress coming toward the 
kitchen. I also heard footsteps on the back 
stairs. Truly they were closing in on me! 
The lamentations of my mistress brought 
my master from the music-room. My ex- 
citement was at its highest pitch. 

Nearer and nearer came the footsteps in 
the dining-room; nearer and nearer came 
the footsteps on the stairs. I had still one 
egg left. I must make good use of it, and 
waited. Just as my master and mistress 
appeared in the doorway of the dining-room, 
the door to the stairway flew open, and 
Bridget, too, appeared on the scene. 

There were exclamations from mistress, 
as she viewed the scene in the kitchen, and 
my master laughed uproariously, while 

52 


Y O P P Y 


Bridget, from her position in the other door- 
way, stood with hands raised in the most 
tragic fashion, and cried, loudly: “ Howly 
Saint Pathrick an’ all the saints preserve 
us! Och chone, that I should ever live be- 
neath the same roof with a spalpeen of 
a — ” 

She did not finish her tirade, for my last 
missile had struck her straight between the 
eyes, and master canue forward suddenly 
and grabbed me by the neck. 

“You little rascal,” he sputtered, “ you 
are carrying your rampage altogether too 
far! ” 

He tried to look severe, but his eyes be- 
trayed him. I knew all the time that he 
was laughing in his sleeve, while mistress 
scolded me soundly, and poor Bridget stood 
leaning against the door, vainly trying to 
wipe the egg from her eyes, lamenting all 
the while in true Irish fashion. 

When mistress had ceased scolding, and 
Bridget quieted down, master called some 
one from the music-room. I looked to see 
who it was, and my dear Ecum stood before 
53 


Y O P P Y 


me. In a flash I was in his arms, telling 
him how much I had longed to see him, while 
he held me close to his shoulder, and whis- 
pered such loving words to me that I forgot 
that I had called down the wrath of the 
house of Arthur. Ecum said that I was a 
“ nice little boy.” I guess he was the only 
one in the house who thought so that day, 
but I did not care. I had my Ecum, and 
for the time being I was happy. 

While mistress and Bridget were trying 
to straighten things out, master was calling 
Ecum’s attention to the various places where 
my missiles had struck. Ecum seemed to 
appreciate all I had done, and I heartily 
enjoyed looking over the scene with him. 
Every few moments master and Ecum 
would break out in a new spot, and laugh 
and laugh until tears stood in their eyes, 
but neither mistress nor Bridget would laugh 
for a cent, but went about with the longest 
faces that you can imagine. 

“ There is just this much about it, hus- 
band,” said my mistress, as she picked up 
a sheet and an egg rolled on the floor, “ if 

54 


Y O P P Y 


that little imp stays in this house, Bridget 
and I are going to move into the barn.’’ 

“ I will see that he does no more mis- 
chief,” answered master. “ I have a scheme 
by which I can fasten him in such a way that 
he won’t be able to slip the chain again.” 

“ I tell you what, Mr. Arthur,” said my 
friend Ecum, “ if you ever want to dispose 
of the little mischief. I’ll take him to New 
Hampshire.” 

‘‘ I may be obliged to accept your offer, 
Mr. Herbert, but I guess I’ll try to keep 
him awhile longer,” answered master. 

Then Ecum looked at his watch, and said 
that he must be going. So I was carried, 
kicking and screeching, back to my detested 
cage. 


55 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER VI. 

IN CLOSE CONFINEMENT 

The day following my “ rampage,” as 
master called it, I was exceedingly quiet. 
I knew that mistress and Bridget were ready 
to take my head otf if I did any more of 
what they called my “ mischief.” I ate my 
meals and nibbled my walnuts and peanuts, 
and looked as innocent as you please, while 
I planned to get out again at the earliest 
opportunity. 

When master had finished his morning’s 
work in the music-room, he brought a chain 
and belt which he fastened to my waist. 
The other end he fastened to a staple that 
he had driven in the side of my cage. 

“ There, sir,” he said, as he grinned at 
me, “ I don’t believe you will trouble your 
mistress or Bridget again.” 


56 


Y O P P Y 


I gave one of my most beseeching cries, 
and assumed an attitude of injured inno- 
cence, but I could not make the least im- 
pression on master. He was determined to 
keep me in close confinement, and it did 
look as if he would succeed, but, when mas- 
ter came to take me out for a frolic, I would 
not play with him. I just sat on my cage 
and uttered plaintive cries. This had the 
desired effect, and I was much pleased to 
hear him say: 

“ Poor little cuss, it’s a shame to keep 
you so close. I guess I will let you have a 
little more liberty.” 

So he left the door of my cage open, that 
I might go in and out as I pleased, which 
would not have been so bad if it were not 
for a miserable poll parrot, who was allowed 
to live in the sitting-room with me. Of 
course, Polly knew all about my escapade 
of the day before, and lost no opportunity 
of taunting me with my disgrace. And the 
worst part of all this was I could not help 
myself. 

It did seem as if Polly was always taking 

57 


Y O P P Y 


a mean advantage of me, for not only was 
I unable to answer in her own language, 
but I was fastened securely to my cage, 
which prevented me from reaching Miss 
Polly and giving her what she justly de- 
served. I am very sure that, could I have 
gotten my hands on her, I should have 
wrung her neck. I will leave it to you, 
reader, if it is not bad enough to get into 
a scrape, without having it thrown at your 
head in the following manner: 

“ Oh, Yoppy! Yoppy! what have you 
done? Have a bonbon! How about the 
fruit dish? Who hit Bridget in the eye? 
Ha, ha, ha! What a Yoppy! what a 
Yoppy! what a funny bird you are! Have 
a cracker! have a cracker! Do, do, 
do!’’ 

Now just imagine how you would feel 
to be called a hirdj, and hooted at in that 
fashion! I made up my mind that, if I 
ever had a chance, I would give that parrot 
all she deserved. 

In vain I worked on the fastening of my 
chain, but, try as I might, it resisted all 

58 


Y O P P Y 


my efforts. It certainly began to look as 
if I was imprisoned for life. 

Nearly every day master had pupils. I 
could hear their voices, and the seesaw of 
their musical instruments, and I longed to 
go in there and assist in the lessons. My 
master played his ’cello beautifully. I loved 
to listen when he played. Often in the eve- 
ning my mistress used to sing. She had a 
lovely voice; it always made me feel as if 
I wanted to be cuddled whenever I heard 
her sing, and I sometimes uttered plaintive 
little cries, but no one came to cuddle me. 

The little Arthurs made delightful play- 
mates. I could not have them all the time, 
as they were at school the greater part of 
the day, but the boys always brought me 
something good to eat when they came home. 
They were very nice boys, and never teased 
or vexed me, as boys are apt to do. 

The little girl, too, was very nice; she 
was not as jolly and rompy as the boys were, 
but she was gentle and kind, which is just as 
attractive in a little girl as jollity in boys. 

I was very fond of my people, even Mis- 

59 


Y O P P Y 


tress Arthur, despite the fact that she had 
scolded me roundly for messing up her din- 
ing-room and kitchen. Yes, indeed, I was 
fond of them all, but I was not fond of 
being confined in a room with that abomi- 
nable squawking parrot, where she could 
torment me to her heart’s content, and I 
could not do a thing to her. 

I remember of having heard my present 
mistress say: “All good things come to 
those who work and wait.” I did not have 
to work, but I did have to wait what seemed 
to me an everlasting long time before I had 
an opportunity to pay Miss Polly for all her 
impudence and abuse. Many, many times 
during my days of confinement did I ex- 
amine the fastening of my chain. Oh, to be 
able to slip that cross-bar, and gain my lib- 
erty once more! What wouldn’t I do to 
Polly Parrot? 

I had used all my strength in trying to 
pull the staple from the side of my cage, 
but it was of no use, so I decided that brains 
must do what brawn could not accomplish. 
I brought all my monkey ingenuity to bear. 

60 


Y O P P Y 


We monkeys are a persevering lot, particu- 
larly where our own interests are concerned. 
I examined my chain again and again, and 
at last began to understand how it was fas- 
tened. I scratched my head several times. 
It was still rather puzzling. If only I could 
remove that cross-bar. 

“ Oh, I have it,” I soliloquized, as I 
scratched my head once more. Some way, 
scratching my head made my thinker work 
better, so I worked away with the persist- 
ency of my race. 

I was rewarded at last by slipping that 
troublesome cross-bar through several links 
of my chain. Then, oh, joy supreme, I 
was free once more! 

I uttered a cry of exultation and sprang 
from my cage. 

There was nothing to hinder me from 
wringing Polly’s neck. I also wanted to 
visit the music-room. I sat on the edge of 
a chair and scratched my chin. I was con- 
sidering. 

If I went for Polly the first thing, her 
squawks would arouse the entire household, 

61 


Y O P P Y 


and, even though I succeeded in twisting 
her neck, as I was fully determined to do, 
I should still be in the dark in regard to 
the music-room. 

Then I reasoned, and decided that Polly 
would keep, while I paid my long wished 
for visit to the music-room. Very cau- 
tiously I crept across the room. I gathered 
my chain in loops over my arm, lest its clink- 
ing should awaken the sleeping parrot. 
Confound her! 

I reached the music-room door. I had 
some difficulty in turning the knob, but suc- 
ceeded at last, and, with a joyful bound, 
I found myself in that long coveted spot. 

Yes, my term of close confinement had 
ended. I was free once more! 


62 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER VII. 

m THE MUSIC - ROOM 

I LOOKED about the music-room with a 
feeling of the deepest satisfaction; it was 
all I had expected. There stood the piano, 
shining as only a well-kept piano shines, 
and there in a corner was master’s ’cello. Of 
course I did not know the names of the 
things I saw at the time, but learned them 
all later. 

Beside the piano stood the music-rack; 
it was filled with sheet-music. What a treat 
for a monkey to dispose of! There was a 
statue of Venus on the piano. I did not 
know who she was until after I had broken 
off her head. Then there was a man’s head 
and shoulders; mistress called it a “bust.” 
The man’s name was Wagner before he 
died. 

63 


Y O P P Y 


At the farthest end of the piano there was 
a lion, but it was not as large as the baby 
lions that live in the jungles. He kept his 
mouth open all the time, and his tail was 
curved like the handle of a coffee-pot. I 
tried to break it off, but couldn’t. I went 
from one thing to another, being careful 
to make no noise. I examined everything, 
but at first made no improvements. 

Having taken note of everything that 
was worth while, I decided that I would 
begin on the sheet-music; then I would wind 
up by smashing as many things as I could 
lay my hands on before some one found me 
on the rampage, I like that word, it sounds 
so monkeyish. 

It was quite a task to tear up all of that 
music. I heard master tell mistress that in 
the collection were ever so many selections 
from opera; there were also ’cello parts and 
marches, waltzes, and two-steps, and every- 
thing else that a first-class music-master 
carries. But opera, march, or waltz was all 
the same to me. I showed no partiality; all 


64 


Y O P P Y 


were treated alike, and made ready for the 
waste-basket. 

When I had finished my work among the 
sheets of music, there was ever so much more 
paper than there had been before I began. 
I scattered the bits of paper about the room, 
kicking up quite a whirlwind as I danced 
around, while I threw handfuls after hand- 
fuls into the air. I had a great time having 
things all my own way, with not a soul to 
disturb me. 

After I had played with the paper as long 
as I wished, I climbed on to the piano-stool. 
I touched the keys. They said, “ Turn, turn, 
turn.” I decided to have nothing more to 
do with the piano; it was like the parrot, 
it talked too much, and I had no desire to 
make my mistress come until I had had 
my heart’s desire in the music-room. 

I next turned my attention to master’s 
’cello. I examined it closely and found that 
it had four strings; they were fastened at 
one end with some queer little pegs, which 
had flat heads. 

I longed to make music as master did, 

65 


Y O P P Y 


so I looked around for a crank. I did not 
know at this time that master made his 
music with a stick. I remembered that the 
organ-grinder, whom I had met in New 
York, made his music by turning a crank, 
but I could find none on master’s ’cello, so 
I decided to chew the strings. Two were 
made of brass wire, the other two were made 
front cat-strings. I tried to chew the brass 
ones first; they resisted all my energy, and 
made my teeth ache, so I gave them up, 
and turned my attention to the others. I 
soon had the satisfaction of hearing two 
delightful snaps, and I knew that those cat- 
strings were beyond repair. 

I next turned my attention to the bridge; 
it was a funny little thing, and I chewed it 
until I was tired. 

Next I visited master’s desk. There was 
a great deal to be done here, so I began by 
pulling everything from the pigeonholes 
and scattering them on the floor. Then I 
poured the contents of a mucilage bottle 
over the mess of account books and papers, 
and left them to take care of themselves. 

66 











Y O P P Y 


‘‘ What next? ’’ I said to myself, as I 
looked about the room. My glance swept 
the piano. There was Venus, as white and 
stately as ever, but I was not ready to settle 
her fate. 

There were the lace curtains, to be sure. 
I had not thought of them before. I 
climbed up the side of a lace drapery, and 
had a jolly time swinging in its folds. I 
must take down those curtains at once, so 
I climbed to the very top. 

It was not a difficult task to unfasten the 
hooks from the rings, and I had two cur- 
tains hanging by the gills in a jiffy. There 
were two more to pull down, so I swung 
myself across from one window to the 
other, and had begun to take down the 
third curtain when I discovered that my 
chain had caught in the lace. 

“ Dear me, how troublesome ! ” I sput- 
tered to myself while I yanked my chain 
free. I tore several holes in the curtain, 
but of course that did not matter. I went 
about taking down the remaining curtains. 
I had just finished unfastening the third 
67 


Y O P P Y 


curtain when I heard master coming up the 
garden walk. 

There was no time for taking down the 
other draperies now; I must attend to the 
occupants of the piano. I did not approve 
of Venus, standing there so white and clean, 
neither did I see why Wagner should stay 
there to keep her company. I sprang to the 
piano. Master was just passing the music- 
room window. I knew I must work rapidly 
if I wished to accomplish all that I had 
planned, so I seized Wagner by the neck. 
I danced him up and down several times, 
then pitched him over the side of the piano. 
He fell to the floor with a crash; the fall 
broke his neck. Then I sent Venus flying 
after him. She fell with a crash, also, and 
struck her head against Wagner’s. Her 
head came off ; so did her feet. 

I heard footsteps in the hall, and Polly 
began to squawk: 

“ Yoppy’s on the rampage! Yoppy’s on 
the rampage ! ” 

That reminded me of the grudge I had 
against her. I would settle her once for all. 

68 


Y O P P Y 


I ran toward her as fast as my dangling 
chain would allow. I was fully determined 
to strangle that bird if I never lived to do 
anything else. 

I was beside her in a few seconds. I 
scrambled on to her cage, and was about to 
seize her by the throat when my foot slipped, 
probably because I was so excited ; my chain 
clanked against the cage, I nearly lost my 
balance, and, while I was scrambling to re- 
gain my footing. Miss Polly quietly buried 
her beak into my arm, just as master walked 
into the room. 

I screamed with pain and rage, and would 
have given her the worst trouncing that she 
had ever had, but master interfered. I was 
caught and caged once more, and, to my 
intense disgust, was obliged to listen to the 
mocking of that parrot until it seemed as 
if I could chop her head off. 

Nor was that all, for very soon master 
discovered my work in the music-room, and 
such a scolding as I got, while Polly 
shrieked at the top of her lungs: 

“ Oh, oh, oh, Yoppy! what a lobster you 

69 


Y O P P Y 


are! what a lobster! what a lobster! Ha, 
ha, ha! try it again! try it again! ” 

Then she would stop long enough to get 
her breath, and squawk louder than before: 

“Ha, ha, ha! Rah, rah, rah, Yoppy, 
Yoppy! Siss boom bah!” 

“ What is the matter, my dear? ” I heard 
my mistress ask, as I sat in the corner of 
my cage, biting the end of my tail. 

“ The matter is just this, Jenny: that ht- 
tle imp has destroyed more this morning 
than I can earn in six months.” 

“ Why, you don’t mean that he has been 
out again! ” exclaimed mistress. “ I thought 
your latest fastening would prove infalh- 
ble.” 

“ I thought so, too, but I should like to 
see a fastening strong enough to puzzle that 
little imp.” JNIaster was very angry. 

]\Iistress went to the music-room, and I 
never heard such a fuss as she made. I 
heard her exclamations, and I was sorry 
that I had ever seen the music-room. This 
was what she said: 

“ Oh, my beautiful Venus, and my Wag- 

70 


Y O P P Y 


ner! And do look at the draperies! And, 
oh, my dear! my dear! look at our sheet- 
music! ” 

I stopped biting my tail and sat very 
quiet. I did not even want to wallop Polly. 
I was very sorry indeed that I had grieved 
my mistress. I truly had no desire to grieve 
any one, but when the spirit of mischief 
takes possession of a monkey, there is no 
telling how far it will lead him. 


71 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE ROAD TO DINGLEBERRY " 

After my visit to the music-room, my 
master decided that I was too expensive a 
pet to keep. I heard them talking it over, 
and I knew that I was to be banished for 
ever from the house of Arthur. I would 
have been very much grieved were it not 
for the fact that I was to be given to Ecum. 
Nevertheless, I was sorry to leave my peo- 
ple. 

It was Wednesday morning again, and 
the day of my banishment. My mistress 
was unusually kind to me that morning. 
She fed me with her own hands, and told 
me that she was sorry I was such a trouble- 
some pet. I answered in my own way, tell- 
ing her how sorry I was. I am not quite 
sure that she imderstood me. The little 

72 


Y O P P Y 


Arthurs, too, seemed sorry to have me sent 
away. They would have kept me in spite 
of my mischief, but my master said an em- 
phatic “No!’’ 

I cried when little missy came to say 
good-bye. I felt very solemn indeed as I 
gave my hand to each of those little hu- 
mans, for I loved every one of them. Why 
shouldn’t I when they had been so kind to 
me? 

There was one thing that I could not 
understand. When I tore my mistress’s 
fern to pieces, and made no end of im- 
provements, and in the kitchen and dining- 
room, master thought it was very funny 
indeed; but when I went to the music- 
room and made improvements there, that 
seemed to be altogether another matter. I 
could not understand it all. Human beings 
are such queer creatures. 

I cried when I took my final leave of my 
old master and mistress. I would gladly 
have taken them with me had I been able 
to do so. 

Ecum came at last and took me away, 

73 


Y O P P Y 


and I soon forgot my troubles and devoted 
myself to my new master. 

The journey from Hyde Park to Boston 
was not very interesting, and I was glad 
when we were in the car that was to take 
me to my new home. When the train 
started, Ecum opened my cage. I was 
glad to get out, and immediately popped 
up before an old lady who occupied a seat 
behind us. She screamed and said: 

“Mercy on me! what a nasty little 
beast! ” 

I wanted to jump into her face, but my 
chain was not long enough. I always want 
to tease people when I know they are afraid 
of me. 

“ I won’t let him hurt you,” said Ecum, 
politely, while the very mischief shone In 
his eyes. 

I made a lurch toward the old lady’s 
bonnet; she threw up her hands and cried: 

“ Heavens! what an imp of Satan.” 

I did not know what that meant, but I 
did want to play with the old lady’s bonnet 
or snatch her spectacles. I looked into 

74 


Y O P P Y 


Ecum’s face, and saw encouragement there. 
I had no desire to do any real harm, but 
I did want to have some fun, so I decided 
to scare the old lady again. I knew by the 
expression of Ecum’s face that he loved to 
hear people squeal as well as I did. I 
would not have you think that my Ecum 
was cruel, for indeed he was not. His 
heart was far too tender to make anything 
suffer, but he did like fun. 

But to go back to my old lady, who had 
settled herself and her parcels, while all 
the time she kept an eye on me. I had 
been sitting on the back of our seat, eating 
an apple. I had cuddled up very near 
Ecum’s shoulder, and had peeled my apple 
as best I could with my teeth, and, when the 
old lady was not looking, I had thrown the 
peeling into her lap. She had evidently 
decided that I was not dangerous, so con- 
cluded to take a nap. It was while she was 
nodding that I had filled her lap with apple 
peeling. 

It occurred to me as I sat there munching 
my apple, that it would be great fun to 
75 


Y O P P Y 


awaken the old lady. I was not sure 
whether Ecum would approve of this or 
not, so I quietly drew my chain farther and 
farther away. 

I had measured the distance between the 
back of our seat and the old lady’s lap. I 
knew exactly how much chain I needed, so 
I went to work in my innocent way to pro- 
cure it. All this time I had been nibbling 
and munching my apple, while I examined 
the lay of the land. Having planned my 
course of action, I was in no hurry to carry 
it out. I snuggled a little closer to Ecum’s 
neck, and began to examine his coat collar. 

“ You mustn’t touch Ecum’s collar,” he 
said, as he felt my hands; then fumbled 
in his pocket for his handkerchief, while 
I tried to stuff my apple core into his ear. 

“ What are you doing, you little rascal? ” 
he said, as he wiped out his ear. Every one 
who sat near us laughed. Ecum laughed, 
too, and threw my apple core out of the 
car window. After that he wiped my 
hands, and I sat for some time watching 
the country as it whirled past us. 


76 


Y O P P Y 


I could not understand why everything 
went tearing on in such a manner. I ap- 
pealed to Ecum for information, but either 
he did not understand me, or could not 
make me understand him. At any rate, I 
never learned why everything along the 
road ran away from us. 

All this time I had not lost sight of my 
old lady, who had gone back to her nap- 
ping. A fleshy man across the way had 
left off watching me, and had his face in 
a newspaper. I looked about and observed 
that every one was occupied one way or 
another; even Ecum had slid down in his 
seat, and was looking straight before him. 
Now was the time to create a commotion. 
I needed a few inches more of chain before 
I carried out my intention. Softly, very 
softly, I crept down in the seat, and began 
playing with Ecum’s finger. He turned 
and looked at me in a drowsy fashion, then 
his eyelids drooped, and I knew that he 
was getting sleepy. 

Once, twice, thrice, I unwound the chain 
from Ecum’s hand. I had all the chain 
77 


Y O P P Y 


I needed, but did not wish to arouse his 
suspicion, so I sat quietly patting his hand. 
Once he opened his eyes and muttered 
something that sounded like “Nice little 
boy,” then he closed his eyes again. I 
waited a few moments longer, then climbed 
to the top of the seat. 

There was nothing to hinder me now 
from carrying out my purpose. I drew a 
long breath and gathered up my chain, and 
let it down carefully over the back of the 
seat. Everything ready, I chuckled to my- 
self as I thought of the commotion I should 
make. Every one was attending to his or 
her own business; so was I. 

The next instant I had pounced into the 
old lady’s lap, and had grabbed her by the 
nose. Such a shriek as she gave! The 
thunder of the cars was nothing in com- 
parison with the noise she made, and all 
on account of one little monkey’s jumping 
into her lap. 

The fleshy man’s paper went down with 
a rattle. Every one looked at the old lady 


78 


Y O P P Y 


and laughed, while I scrambled back to 
my seat. 

“Oh, you nasty little thing!” sputtered 
the old lady, as she felt her nose. I sup- 
pose she thought I had taken off a bit. I 
think I did pinch it pretty hard, so I held 
up my hands to assure her that I hadn’t 
a piece of her nose, whereupon the passen- 
gers at our end of the car roared, and 
Ecum laughed until there were tears in his 
eyes. 

“ Thank goodness I shall get out at the 
next station,” the old lady snarled. She 
was the only person around me who was 
not grinning. 

As usual, I got the worst of my prank, 
for Ecum put me back in my cage, after 
telling me I had been at large long enough. 
He tried to look serious, and, although he 
kept his face straight, there was still a 
bright gleam in his eye that could not de- 
ceive me. I think it was the recognition 
of a kindred spirit that made me love him 
as I did. 

At the next station my old lady gathered 

79 


Y O P P Y 


up her boxes and bundles. Ecum took her 
largest packages and helped her from the 
car. Just as she was leaving, I heard her 
say: 

“ Young man, I know that you are a true 
gentleman, even though you do carry a 
monkey around to frighten people to 
death.” 

As Ecum took his seat again, the con- 
ductor stuck his head in the doorway and 
shouted : 

“ Next station is Dingleberry! ” 

I could not see much that was going on 
after Ecum put me in my cage, so I curled 
up and tried to take a nap. It seemed 
to me that I had been asleep but a few 
moments when I heard that same conductor 
shouting again: 

“Dingleberry! Dingleberry! Don’t for- 
get your parcels!” 

The next moment Ecum had taken my 
cage, and was hustling out of the train 
with so many noisy people that I very 
much feared we would get upset or 
smashed before we left that noisy station. 

80 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE LITTLE SHOP AROUND THE CORNER 

On our arrival at the little shop around 
the corner that was to be my abiding-place, 
I was introduced to my new mistress. She 
was standing in the doorway, and seemed 
very glad to see Ecum. 

“ Oh, what a little darling! ” was the first 
thing she said, as she held out her hand to 
me. 

I looked into her face and read: “ Kind- 
ness to dumb animals.” I knew that I 
could trust my new mistress even as I 
trusted my new master. Ecum opened my 
cage, and I crawled into her arms. She 
held me very close, and petted me as I love 
to be petted, and I knew that I should be 
happy with my new friends. 

I tried to show my approval by patting 

81 


Y O P P Y 


her cheek, and she seemed to like it. I had 
heard Ecum call her “ Mollie.” I thought 
it a very pretty name, but one that no 
monkey could pronounce, so I called her 
“ Te-te-te-um,” and I was surprised to see 
how readily she learned to answer to this 
name. She always called me “ Yoppydil,” 
which I really liked much better than 
“ Yoppy.” 

When mistress gave me back to Ecum, 
I smacked my lips at her, and she allowed 
me to touch my lips to her face, which was 
more than any other woman had done. I 
am sure that she showed good taste. Don’t 
you think so? 

After Ecum put me into my cage, he 
turned to my mistress and said: 

“ Well, Mollie, don’t you think it is about 
time to think about supper? ” 

“Dear me, Henry! I had forgotten all 
about supper, I have been so taken up with 
that little dear.” 

“ So you like him, do you? ” 

“ I do, indeed,” answered mistress. “ I 
have always wanted a monkey.” 


82 


Y O P P Y 


Before they left me, mistress gave me a 
cup of milk and a nice biscuit. Ecum held 
the cup while I drank, and mistress broke 
small pieces from the biscuit and gave them 
to me. 

“We must teach him to be neat, and reg- 
ular in his habits,” I heard mistress say. 
“ There is nothing like training a pet to 
good habits. I believe the monkeys who die 
of consumption are not cared for properly. 
I shall see that Yoppydil has wholesome 
food, and good air, and a daily bath.” 

Ecum grinned at what mistress said, but 
I did not understand what she meant by 
a bath until the next morning, as I had 
never had one in my life. 

When Ecum and mistress returned from 
their supper, I was introduced to some 
friends of the family. First came two little 
girls, whose names were Mattie and Han- 
nie. They were the foster sisters of my 
mistress. Both were good to look at. Mat- 
tie was fair, with fluffy curls and blue eyes, 
— just like Ecum’s. Hannie was a veri- 


83 


Y O P P Y 

table gipsy; her hair was very dark, so 
were her eyes. 

I made friends with Mattie at once, she 
was such a nice little thing, but when I held 
out my hand to shake hands with Hannie, 
she drew back and said: 

“ Deliver me from such a pet as that.” 
I promptly showed my teeth, and gave her 
to understand that there was no love lost 
on either side. I learned to think more of 
Hannie when I knew her better, for, al- 
though she did not like monkeys, she did 
love all other dumb animals. 

The next friend of the family who came 
to see me was Teddy Cartland. He was a 
tall boy with an honest face, and from the 
beginning I knew that I could trust him. 
We became firm friends. 

The morning following my arrival, I 
learned that the shop was larger than I 
had at first thought it. I found that my 
room was a sort of storeroom, at one side 
of which there were a number of boxes and 
barrels. Beyond my room was the work- 
room, where several bakers were kept busy 

84 


Y O P P Y 


making bread and pies and things. Be- 
yond the workroom was the salesroom, 
where mistress and a bright-eyed girl did 
the selling. The shop was called a “ Whole- 
sale and Retail Bakery,” and my Master 
Ecum was its — dear me! what is that 
word? Oh, yes, I know, its proprietor, 

“ So far so good,” I said to myself 
when I learned all about my new home. 
There was one thing which was certain: 
that I need not go hungry, with such stacks 
of food at my command. The only trouble 
that I could see was that I could not go 
into the workroom and help myself. 

I had not been in the shop twenty-four 
hours before I decided that if I ever did 
slip my chain and get into that workroom, 
I would mix up messes of which no baker 
ever dreamed. 

I do not know whether Ecum was aware 
of my intention or not; at any rate, that 
very morning he came to my room, and 
with a little brass padlock fastened my 
chain to a staple in the wall. 

After Ecum had fastened my chain, my 

85 


Y O P P Y 


mistress came to my room with a basin of 
water, a towel, and a piece of soap. It 
was then I learned what the word “ bath ” 
meant. 

“ Now, Yoppydil,” said mistress, “ I 
am going to give you your bath, then you 
may have your breakfast.” 

As I have said, I had never had a bath 
in my life, and did not know what was ex- 
pected of me. The first thing that mis- 
tress did was to rub the white stuff, that 
she called “ soap,” on the sponge. 

“Now hold out your hands, Yoppydil,” 
she said. 

I didn’t understand, so I made a funny 
noise, which meant, “ I don’t know what 
you mean.” 

Then she took my hand and began to 
rub it. I liked the performance very 
much. There was a lot of froth on the 
sponge and on my hand. It looked good 
enough to eat, so I tasted it and found that 
it was like a great many other things in 
this world, not so good as they look. 
When mistress had finished washing and 

86 


Y O P P Y 


wiping my hands, she did the same thing 
to my face and neck, then my body and 
legs. She wiped me dry with a coarse 
towel, then brushed my hair. 

Oh, how good I felt after that bath! 
I told mistress in a confidential way how 
much I liked being washed. You must 
remember that I could not talk English, 
but I could and did talk my own lan- 
guage quite fluently. 

I once heard my mistress tell a visitor 
that she understood from my wearied ex- 
pression and gestures every meaning that 
I wished to convey. I was very glad to 
have mistress understand me ; it always 
encouraged me to ask for what I wanted. 
If she did not understand me the first 
time I asked for a thing, she would offer 
me different things until she found the 
right one. 

After that first bath I was always 
ready for another, and I always had one 
every morning unless mistress was out of 
town. My daily bath made me feel so 
frisky that after it I always wanted to 
87 


Y O P P Y 


play pranks on any one that came my 
way. 

In due time I was introduced to the 
other pets at the shop. There was Freddy, 
the dog, a thoroughbred field spaniel, then 
there were the two cats or kittens, whose 
names were Pauline and Cornelia. Freddy 
was a very handsome dog, with an intelli- 
gent face. His ears were long and silky, 
and I thought as I looked at them what 
a good time I should have pulling them. 

The kittens, too, were pretty creatures. 
They were twins, I think; at any rate, 
they were sisters and exactly the same 
size. 

Every morning, after mistress had given 
me my bath and my breakfast, she would 
feed Freddy and the little cats. I never 
understood why she washed me before I 
had my breakfast, and did not brush 
Freddy or the cats until after they had 
eaten. There are a great many things 
that monkeys do not comprehend, al- 
though we do know a great deal. 

At first Freddy did not know what 

88 


Y O P P Y 


to make of me. He seemed very shy, 
particularly so when I tried to hang to his 
ears. But after awhile, when he found 
that I would not hurt him, or at least 
only a little, he became one of my best 
friends. 

The cats, too, were afraid of me at first, 
but on a closer acquaintance we became the 
best of friends, and there was not in all 
the town a happier lot than we pets at 
the httle shop around the corner. 


89 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER X. 

GETTING ACQUAINTED 

The same morning on which I was 
presented to the other pets, my mistress 
put the two small cats on my shelf, 
saying as she did so: 

“ Now, Yoppydil, you must be good to 
my kitties.” 

I knew very little about kitties. I had 
not been very well acquainted with the 
house cat at my former home. It is true 
that I had thrown dirt into his eyes, and 
had called forth his deepest disapproval; 
he had snarled and hissed at me, and there 
our acquaintance had ended. So when 
my mistress at Dingleberry brought her 
little cats to me and bade me be good to 
them, I had not the slightest idea of what 
was expected of me. So I began my 

90 


Y O P P Y 


acquaintance by trying to poke my fingers 
in the cat’s eyes. This evidently was not 
the thing to do, for mistress said: 

“No! no! Yoppydil! That isn’t the 
way to treat your company.” Then mis- 
tress stroked the cat’s back. 

I reflected a moment, then did as I had 
seen mistress do, only I rubbed the fur 
the wrong way. 

“ That’s a nice boy, Yoppydil,” said 
mistress approvingly; “ now let missy show 
him just how to do it.” 

She took my hand and rubbed it over 
the cat’s back the other way. This process 
of “ poaring ” made the hair smooth, in- 
stead of making it stand on ends. After 
that I had no further trouble with rub- 
bing the cat’s fur the wrong way. 

My next move was to examine Polly’s 
ears. Polly was a soft, purring little 
thing, and I knew at once that I should 
like* her for a playmate. She did not 
object in the least to my pawing her over. 
After I had examined her ears I smacked 
my lips at her, which meant that I wanted 
‘91 


Y O P P Y 


to kiss her. She returned the compliment 
by rubbing her nose against my face. 

I was delighted with Polly. I stroked 
her back and talked to her in my monkey- 
ish way. To be sure, I did nearly all of 
the talking, for all Polly could say was, 
“ Mew.” 

But it did not matter in the least 
whether Polly talked or not. I had “ gab ” 
enough for both; at least so Ecum had 
said, and what he says is always true. So 
I chattered to Polly, and she purred at 
me, and kept rubbing against me, first one 
side, then the other. It was very nice 
indeed. Such a dear, soft little thing as 
Polly was. 

Meanwhile Connie had been on a tour 
of investigation around my house — that 
cat was always curious — she had man- 
aged to stick her nose into every crack 
and crevice in the wall, and had come back 
with her nose and whiskers covered with 
cobwebs. She at once turned her atten- 
tion to my chain, and if there is one thing 
that a monkey dislikes more than any- 

92 



» 














Y O P P Y 


thing else, it is to have any one pull his 
chain or meddle with his tail. Miss Cor- 
nelia did both, and I screamed at the top 
of my voice. I might just as well have 
kept quiet, for all the good my screaming 
did. That cat paid not a particle of at- 
tention to my cries, but kept on dabbing 
my tail and clawing my chain. 

I begged her to stop. I tried my best 
to make her understand that I wished her 
to let me alone, but she kept on dabbing 
and boxing, until I lost my patience and 
pulled her whiskers. Even that did no 
good. What could I do? I wanted to 
enjoy Polly. I had taken her in my arms; 
I could hear her soft little purring, and I 
wanted to keep her near me. She was such 
a dear little pet. I wanted to cuddle her 
as my mother used to cuddle me. I wanted 
Connie to go away and leave me in peace. 

I turned to mistress, who was watching 
us, and told her as plainly as I could that 
we did not want Connie. Polly and I 
could get along without her; she was a 
meddlesome little thing. 

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Y O P P Y 


I knew that mistress understood me, 
yet for some reason she failed to do my 
bidding. I think she must have wanted 
to see what would happen if Connie con- 
tinued her teasing. 

While I was fussing about Connie, dear 
little Polly was trying to go to sleep in 
my arms. Connie came a little nearer. I 
curled my tail around Polly, then the 
troublesome Connie began clawing my 
chain again. Then what do you think? 
That Connie jumped straight at Polly’s 
head, and began chewing her ear. 

That was more than I could endure. I 
dropped Polly and seized Connie by the 
tail. I yanked her up and down, and 
backward and forward until she screamed 
for mercy. Then before I knew what she 
was about, she had buried several sharp 
little weapons deep into my flesh. 

I learned a lesson that day. I never 
knew until that moment that beneath those 
soft little paws there were sharp claws. 
Who would ever suspect it of such soft 
little paws? 


94 


Y O P P Y 


After having felt the prick from those 
claws I longed to examine them. I as- 
sumed my most wheedling air and tried 
to coax Connie to allow me the privilege 
of examining her other paws. I would 
have forced her to let me make an inves- 
tigation, but you see I was afraid of 
another attack from those sharp little 
things. Mistress called them “ pricker- 
picks.” I assure you that I had not the 
slightest desire to feel those “ pricker- 
picks ” again. I wished only to examine 
them. 

I heard Ecum’s voice in the doorway; 
he was laughing at me. I wouldn’t have 
thought it of Ecum. 

“ He is fussing because Connie scratched 
him,” said mistress. 

Just then a bright thought occurred to 
me. It was this: “ Surely if Connie had 
weapons hidden under her soft little paws, 
of course, Polly had, also.” I was not in 
the least afraid of Polly, so I took her in 
my arms again. Mistress and Ecum were 


95 


Y O P P Y 

watching me intently, but that made no 
difference. 

I held Polly in my arms as my mother 
used to hold me. I smacked my lips at 
her, and told her what a nice little thing 
she was, then I took one of her paws in 
my hand. It was such an innocent-looking 
little thing; it really did not look as if 
there were any “ pricker-picks ’’ hidden 
away in that soft fur. I looked it all 
over but could find no sign of anything 
sharp. I appealed to Ecum. I thought 
he would help me to solve the puzzle. 
Why should Connie have sharp things to 
prick folks with, and Polly have none? 

I scratched my head and meditated. 
“ Oh, yes,’’ I knew just what to do. I 
took Polly’s paw between my thumb and 
finger. Polly purred good-naturedly 
while I pressed her paw, very gently at 
first, then a little harder. I gave Ecum 
a significant look; he understood and an- 
swered : 

“ Yes, Yoppy, you’ll find ’em if there 
are any.” 


96 


Y O P P Y 


I chattered wisely as I gave the little 
paw a still harder squeeze, and behold, out 
came the claws 1 There were five of them, 
and every one of them as wicked-looking 
as you please. And on my Polly’s paw, 
too. Who ever would have thought it! 

I made a noise to Ecum and mistress. 
They understood and shared my senti- 
ments. I examined the other paws; they 
all had “ pricker-picks.” I sat Polly 
against my knee, — I could have stood her 
on her head had I wished to do so, — I 
wanted to examine those wonderful little 
scratchers. I rubbed my hand across the 
edge, while once more I made them come 
out. My, my! but they were awfully 
sharp. 

I was very glad that Polly was not of 
Connie’s disposition, and I am very sure 
that if she were like Connie I should have 
got more than I bargained for. 

I could not say words, at least I could 
not talk English, except when I said : 
‘‘ Ecum, Teteteum,” and a few other 
words that meant “ yes ” and “ I am satis- 
97 


Y O P P Y 


fied.” Of course those words were not 
English, but my people understood them, 
so my language must have been very plain. 
The word that meant “ yes ” or “ I am sat- 
isfied was pronounced “ Um, hum, um, 
hum.” 

So of course Ecum and mistress knew 
what I meant when I said: ‘‘You wouldn’t 
think such innocent -looking paws had pins 
in them, now would you? ” 

“ No, Yoppy,” answered Ecum, “ you 
never can tell what is hidden away under 
velvet cushions.” 

“ Appearances are deceitful sometimes,” 
said mistress. 

Nevertheless, Polly and I had become 
the best of friends, and never while she 
lived did that dear pussy ever try her 
claws on me. 


98 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XI. 

LITTLE DEEDS OF KINDNESS 

I HAD been at Dingleberry but a short 
time when I learned that every tramp cat 
or dog that happened to be in the neigh- 
bourhood came to our shop to be fed and 
cared for, and not one of them was ever 
turned away. If there happened to be a 
sick cat, mistress always cared for it until 
it was well; if a stray dog came along, 
Ecum always kept him and fed him until 
he found the dog’s master. 

One day a sad thing happened that made 
me understand better than I ever had the 
extent of Ecum’s kindness to dumb ani- 
mals. There were two little French boys 
who lived near our shop. They were very 
bad boys and never lost an opportunity 
to torment any dumb creature that came 
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LijIC. 


Y O P P Y 


in their way, throwing stones at the cats, 
tormenting the dogs, and doing everything 
they could think of that was mean and 
cruel. Once they tried to poke sticks at 
me through the windows of my room, but 
Ecum caught them at it and gave them 
such a raking over that they never dared 
to come near my window again. 

The very sad thing that I am going to 
tell you about was this. Those bad boys 
set an ugly bulldog on to a little black 
dog. I could not see at first, but as the 
crowd gathered, the dogs came in my 
direction so that I could see them plainly. 
The bad boys had been saying: “ Sick 
’em, sick ’em.” The bulldog had fastened 
his teeth in the little dog’s flesh and there 
was a great commotion. Men rushed from 
their stores with sticks and brooms. They 
tried very hard to make the bulldog let go, 
but he fastened his teeth all the harder. 

The poor little dog was crying pitifully 
when Ecum came to the back door of the 
shop. Seeing what was the matter, he 
went to a cupboard and came back with a 

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Y O P P Y 


bottle, which he hurriedly uncorked and 
held to the bulldog’s nose. The next mo- 
ment the bulldog had released the little 
dog, and stood hcking his chops in the 
funniest way, while Ecum took the httle 
dog in his arms. 

“ What is that stuff? ” one of the men 
asked, as Ecum tucked the bottle under 
his arm. 

“ Ammonia,” he answered, carrying the 
little dog into the shop, where he placed 
him on a bed in the corner. 

“ Now, you poor little thing,” said Ecum, 
as he bent over the wounded dog, “ we’ll 
see what can be done for you.” 

There was a horrible wound in the dog’s 
side; the flesh was torn in two places, and 
he was whining pitifully. 

“ Bring me some milk and water, will 
you, Mollie?” Ecum asked as mistress 
appeared in the doorway. Mistress has- 
tened to do Ecum’s bidding. 

The dog understood that Ecum was his 
friend, and was trying to help him. When 
Ecum began to bathe the wounds, the little 

101 


Y O P P Y 


dog licked his hand, and certainly there 
was gratitude shining in that little dog’s 
eyes. When Ecum had finished bathing the 
wound, mistress brought a bottle of vase- 
line and a strip of white cloth. I was very 
much interested, as Ecum and mistress 
wound the cloth around the dog’s body, 
after having applied vaseline to the wound. 
I wanted to assist in the operation, but, 
when I made my wants known, Ecum said: 

“Never mind about it, Yoppy; I guess 
Mollie and I can manage this affair with- 
out your help.” 

The little dog stayed all night and slept 
on the little bed in the corner. Mistress 
used to call it the “ Wayfarer’s bed.” 

The next morning, after Ecum had 
dressed the wounds, he left the little dog 
while he went out to find the master. 

Some time later the owner came and 
took the little dog away, not, however, be- 
fore he had lavished no end of thanks on 
my Ecum. 

“ Mr. Herbert, you are one man in a 
thousand,” the man had said. I did not 

102 


Y O P P Y 


know what that meant, but knew from the 
expression of the man’s face that he meant 
something very nice. Besides, Ecum looked 
pleased, and told the man not to mention it. 

After the man went away, Ecum took 
me in his arms, and in a very low voice 
said: 

“ Dear little Yoppy, I wouldn’t like to 
have your sides torn the way that little 
dog’s were.” 

I quite agreed with him, and told him 
so, as I tucked my head under his chin. 

A few days later Mattie and Hannie 
brought a blind rat to the shop. It was in 
a trap, and Hannie said that she did not 
like to kill it, so brought it to Ecum to 
find out what was best to do with it. 

“ Give it to the dog,” said Teddy Cart- 
land. “ He’ll make quick work of it.” 

“ As if we would be so cruel,” answered 
Hannie, scornfully. 

“ I guess we won’t give it to the dog,” 
chirped Mattie. 

“ Show it to Yop,” put in Teddy again. 

They held up the trap where I could 

103 


Y O P P Y 


see it. I promptly showed my teeth. I 
never did like the looks of a rat. 

Just then Ecum appeared in the back 
doorway. 

“ Here’s Henry now,” shouted the little 
girls. They were very fond of Ecum. 

“ And, oh, Henry, we’ve got a curi- 
osity!” exclaimed Hannie. 

“ Yes, Henry, we’ve got a blind rat,” put 
in Mattie, “ and we don’t know what to 
do with him.” 

I chattered and showed my teeth, while 
Ecum examined the occupant of the rat- 
trap. 

“ He is blind, poor fellow,” commented 
Ecum. 

Teddy began to laugh. “ I hope you 
aren’t foolish enough to spare that rat’s 
life just because he’s blind,” said Teddy, 
grinning all the while. 

“ That’s about what I’m going to do, 
Teddy,” said Ecum, as he took the trap 
and carried it into the yard. 

“Aw, give it to the dog; that will be 
lots more fun,” said Teddy. 


104 


Y O P P Y 


“ There,” Ecum said, as he opened the 
trap and allowed the rat to escape under 
a woodshed. “ I never did take a mean 
advantage of anything, and I won’t begin 
on a poor blind rat.” 

“You are a dear boy,” said my mistress. 
“Of course you would not take advantage 
of anything weaker than yourself.” 

“ I’m glad you approve of my course, 
Mollie. There’s nothing like sympathy,” 
answered Ecum, while his face shone with 
happiness that comes from performing lit- 
tle deeds of kindness. 


105 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XII. 

LITTLE WORDS OF LOVE 

I HAD observed, much to my envy and 
disgust, that Ecum was extremely fond of 
my mistress. I had often watched him and 
my mistress when they came to my room. 
I observed that when there was no one 
else around, Ecum would take mistress’s 
hand in his, and, to make a bad matter 
worse, she seemed to like it. 

Sometimes they would sit side by side 
on a flour barrel, then Ecum would put his 
arm around her waist. I made a great fuss 
about it, but it did no good. The more fuss 
I made, the worse they acted. They really 
seemed to enjoy my discomfiture. 

I was madly jealous of my mistress. I 
did not want Ecum to love any one or 
anything except myself. To be sure, mis- 

106 


Y O P P Y 


tress was a nice body in her own way, well 
enough to give a fellow a bath and his 
meals, or to feed the cats and the dog, or 
to cuddle me when I could not have Ecum. 
But when it came to seeing her so familiar 
with him, it was more than I could bear. 

Sometimes Ecum and mistress took their 
meals at the shop. At such times mistress 
would bring a small table, and on this she 
would spread a spick and span covering. 
Then she would bring a lot of good things 
that always made my mouth water. 

To be sure, I always had my share of 
them, but I wanted to sit at the table and 
help myself, a proceeding that neither 
Ecum nor mistress would allow; no matter 
how much I teased or fussed, it was always: 

‘‘ No, no, Yoppydil, you must eat in 
your own dining-room.” 

I often thought, as mistress arranged the 
table with its snowy cover and pretty dishes, 
how I should like to jump into the middle 
of it and upset everything. 

There was one vegetable that my people 
used a great deal, and of which I was very 
107 


Y O P P Y 


fond. They were called sweet potatoes. I 
never ate anything in all my life that tasted 
so delicious as they did, yet it was by an 
accident that Ecum learned of my fond- 
ness for them. It happened this way: 

One day — it was the first time I had 
seen sweet potatoes — Ecum and mistress 
were preparing to eat their dinner, and 
mistress brought a dish of those delicious 
articles and set them on the table. There 
were other things, but those baked sweet 
potatoes took my fancy at once; their odour 
reached my shelf and entered my nostrils. 
I was wild for a taste of one, so I made 
the biggest fuss. Ecum cut a potato in 
two pieces, then in his own easy manner 
he began to dig out the inside. When the 
potato was opened, I smelled it all the 
more, so of course I made more noise. 

“Great Scott, Yoppy!” said Ecum, 
“ you are enough to drive any one wild.” 
Then he threw the peeling at me. I caught 
it on the fly, and immediately turned it 
inside out and began to eat what had stuck 
to the skin. 


108 


Y O P P Y 


I cannot tell you how good that potato 
tasted. I could not keep still while I was 
eating it, but kept up a satisfied chatter 
until there was nothing left but the peehng. 
I made a great fuss for more. This time 
Ecum did not dig out the inside, so I had 
it all. My, my, how good it was! 

After that I had a sweet potato every 
day for my dinner. I liked them better 
than any other kind of food, and my Ecum 
always kept them on hand, even when they 
were so expensive that the storekeeper in 
Dingleberry could not sell them, and Ecum 
used to send to Boston for them. 

One day, as he took his place at the table, 
mistress brought a deep dish filled with 
some kind of soup that she called • “ clam 
chowder.” Very soon the odour reached my 
nostrils, and I was wild to get my hand 
into it. How good it did smell! 

I immediately began to make a fuss. 
Mistress brought my sweet potatoes, but 
I wanted soup. I yelled at the top of 
my lungs, until Ecum threw a clam at me. 
I gobbled it at once, and yelled louder than 
109 


Y O P P Y 


ever for more. He threw another clam, 
which I devoured as speedily as I had the 
first, then another, and yet another followed 
until mistress declared that I would be sick. 

I did not care in the least what mistress 
said. I wanted more clams. I would have 
them or raise the roof with my outcries. 
She gave me a tin dish full of soup; it was 
good, but there was not a clam in it, so 
I set up another howl. Then what do you 
think? My Ecum lost his patience and 
spoke to me in a way that I had never 
heard him speak, and what do you think 
he said? Just this: 

“ Shut your mouth, Yop, or Ecum will 
whip you.” 

To have him speak to me in this manner 
was such a surprise to me that I did shut 
my mouth, and kept it shut for fully five 
minutes, and Ecum and mistress sat eating 
as if there was not a monkey in all the 
world. If my tongue was still, my brain 
was busy, very busy, indeed. I had ob- 
served my ball tucked away in one corner 
of my house. I decided to play with it. 

110 


Y O P P Y 


It was very solid, the kind that boys play 
baseball with. Teddy had given it to me, 
and very often he came to play ball with 
me. I always enjoyed playing ball with 
Teddy, but this time I thought I could 
manage it myself. 

I looked at Ecum. He was helping 
himself to more soup. 

“ It is so good that I must have some 
more,” he said, as he gave mistress one of 
those looks that always made me crazy. 

“ I am glad that you like it, dearie,” 
answered mistress, as she beamed across the 
table. “ I do so like to please you.” 

“ You always do,” said Ecum, with an- 
other look across the table that made me 
feel wicked. Such nonsense from two 
grown-up humans! 

I listened again, and heard Ecum say: 
“ Yes, Mollie, your chowder is Al. It 
could not be improved.” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, it could,” thought I, ‘‘ and I 
will show you how.” With this thought, 
I threw my ball straight into the soup- 
tureen. 

Ill 


Y O P P Y 


There was a splash, a scream, and several 
exclamations, as Ecum suddenly pushed 
his chair back and nearly upset the table, 
and mistress in her haste nearly tipped over 
backward. The table-cloth was splashed, 
Ecum was splashed, and mistress was cov- 
ered with soup, even to her hair and face. 
I fully expected a whipping. I almost 
knew I should have one, but I laughed until 
I cried, all the same. 

Neither mistress nor Ecum would eat 
any more soup. Mistress turned what was 
left into the swill-pail, and she said that 
I was a naughty boy. How strange they 
should have changed their minds so sud- 
denly regarding that soup and, too, after 
they had said it was so good! I never 
could see how my ball should have spoiled 
the flavour, but human beings are such 
queer animals, one never knows how to 
take them. And the strangest part of it 
all was that I did not get a whipping. 
Humans are queer; they seldom do what 
is expected of them. 

The day following my affair with the 

112 


Y O P P Y 


soup-tureen, mistress did not come to the 
shop. It was the first time since I had 
come to live in Dingleberry that mistress 
failed to give me my bath. I learned from 
Freddy that mistress had gone to the sea- 
shore to stay a week. 

Ecum gave us our meals regularly, but 
we did miss our mistress very much indeed. 
I think Ecum missed her, too. He did not 
seem quite as jolly as usual, although he 
came to see me oftener than he did when 
mistress was at home. Once I heard him 
ask Freddy if he missed Mollie. Freddy 
wagged his tail, and looked very much as 
if he would like to say: 

“ Yes, indeed, master, I miss her very 
much.” 

Even Polly and Connie seemed lost with- 
out their “ missy,” but she came back at 
the end of a week. 

I screamed and chattered joyfully when 
I saw her, and sprang into her arms, telling 
her how lonely I had been without her, 
while Freddy nearly wagged his tail off, 
and the cats rubbed around her feet, and 
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Y O P P Y 


covered her skirt with hair. I am sure 
from the way that mistress looked and 
acted that she was glad to be at home again, 
glad to see the cats again, and glad to see 
Freddy and me. 

It was indeed a happy time, and ought 
to have lasted longer, but, while we were in 
the midst of our jubilation, Ecum appeared 
in the back doorway. He had been to the 
station to meet mistress, but had missed 
her, so came back to find her with us. 
When mistress saw Ecum, she dropped me 
without ceremony, and walked straight into 
his open arms. She threw her arms around 
his neck, and they kissed each other, not 
once, but half a dozen times, and such words 
of love as he poured into her ears! Oh, 
I could have bitten her head off, I was so 
furious. 

Then I heard her say: “Dear boy, how 
I have missed you.” And Ecum looked 
into her eyes as he never looked into mine, 
and answered: 

“ But not so much as I have missed you.” 

In a few minutes all my love for my 

114 


Y O P P Y 


mistress had turned to hate. I made the 
biggest racket I was capable of making. 
I scolded, yelled, rattled my chain, and 
even threw a handful of sawdust, but they 
paid no attention; they just stood there 
utterly regardless of my existence. Yes, 
there they stood, — my Ecum with his 
arms around my mistress, and she with 
an arm around his neck, and all because 
she had been away one little week. 

And Freddy, the great goose, sat look- 
ing on with a world of affection in his eyes, 
as if he fully approved of the affair. The 
cats, too, purred around their feet, as if 
nothing unusual was taking place, while 
poor little me was nearly broken-hearted. 
Cats and dogs are stupid creatures at best; 
no wonder they take serious matters so 
calmly. As for me, I was wild with jeal- 
ous rage. Yes, wild! and determined to 
have revenge as soon as I had an oppor- 
tunity. 

I continued to cry and rattle my chain; 
I chewed the ends of my fingers; I threat- 
ened to chew the end of my tail, and all 
115 


Y O P P Y 


the satisfaction I got was that Ecum called 
me a “ noisy rascal.” Then he and mis- 
tress went home, and left me to nurse my 
wrath all alone. 

Two hours later, when Ecum and mis- 
tress returned to the shop, I was very quiet, 
although I had not forgotten my wrongs. 
I thought of all that had passed, of Ecum’s 
affection for that woman. I knew now 
that he loved her as he would never love 
me. I forgot all that my mistress had done 
for me, I only remembered the scene of 
two hours before, so, when she came to give 
me my good-night cuddling, I uttered an 
angry cry and buried my teeth in her arm. 
She gave a frightened scream, as if she 
had seen a mouse, and Ecum came hurry- 
ing to her side. 

“ Yoppydil has bitten me. He must be 
jealous,” she said, while she held one hand 
over the bitten arm. 

I was sorry the moment I did it. Some 
way, with that bite, my hatred for her flew 
away. I tried to tell her how sorry I was, 
but she did not look at me. When Ecum 

116 


Y O P P Y 


saw the bitten place, his face looked like 
thunder-clouds. He told mistress to go 
straight to the doctor, while he hunted for 
a switch. 

It was the first and last time that my 
Ecum ever whipped me, but he gave me 
such a switching that time that I never 
wanted to bite any one again. 

I did not get my bath, or my usual lov- 
ings, for more than a week, and, oh, how 
sorry I was that I did it. 


117 


y o p p Y 


CHAPTER XIII. 

LITTLE BITS OF NONSENSE 

The bakers at our shop were never al- 
lowed to smoke in the workroom, so they 
used to come to my room to fill their pipes 
whenever they had time to smoke. I had 
often watched them in this performance, 
and often longed for one of the pipes, that 
I might join them. It was always so inter- 
esting to see how they did it, and they did 
enjoy it so much. I had long watched for 
an opportunity to snatch a pipe from one 
of the bakers’ mouths, but they all seemed 
to divine my intention, for, whenever I 
went near one of them, no matter how in- 
nocent or unconcerned I appeared, those 
bakers would hold on to their pipes and 
say: 


118 


Y O P P Y 


“ I guess not, Yoppy; I want this smoke 
myself.’’ 

So I was obliged to wait a very long time 
before the opportunity came that gave me 
my heart’s desire. One day my friend 
Tackner, who was the head baker, came 
to my room to have his smoke. He had 
just begun to dig out the burnt tobacco 
when Ecum called him to the workroom. 
In his haste to answer Ecum, Mr. Tackner 
must have forgotten about me, for he left 
his pipe on a barrel. You may be sure that 
I lost no time in securing the long coveted 
pipe, and proceeded to dig out the burnt 
tobacco. 

I had seen the bakers fill their pipes, so 
that I knew just how to do it. I had ob- 
served that the bakers used knives to dig 
out their pipes. I had no knife, but I had 
fingers, so I used them, and found that they 
worked very well. 

I was scraping out the burnt tobacco 
when Tackner returned to the back room. 
He looked all around, felt in his pockets, 


119 


Y O P P Y 

then exclaimed: “Where in thunder is my 
pipe! ’’ 

I made a funny little noise to attract his 
attention. 

“ So you’ve got it, have you, you little 
rascal,” he said, as he stood grinning at 
me. 

I chuckled as I thought of the fun I 
was going to have. I made another noise, 
and kept on digging out the tobacco. I 
rapped the pipe on my shelf, as I had seen 
the bakers rap their pipes, then gave it 
a final scrape with my finger. 

By this time Ecum and the bakers were 
standing in the doorway, watching me. 
Seeing that they wished to be entertained, 
I tried my best to amuse them. I gave 
the pipe three sharp raps on my shelf, then 
swung it over my head, held it in my toes, 
and did a great many other nonsensical 
things, while the bakers laughed as if they 
would burst. When I tired of playing with 
the pipe, I decided to fill it, and try my 
hand at smoking. 

I had no tobacco, so, as no one offered 

120 


Y O P P Y 


me any, I stuffed my pipe with sawdust 
from my shelf. I remembered that the 
bakers always put their pipes in their 
mouths, and sucked air through them, then 
they would hold a little stick with fire on 
the end of it over the pipes. I always ob- 
served that when they did this that steam 
or something came out of their mouths, 
then they would sit on a flour barrel and 
puff away as if smoking was the most 
delightful occupation in the world. 

I followed the example of the bakers to 
a letter, but when I had filled my pipe, I 
found that I had no stick with which to 
strike fire. I looked at my pipe, then at 
Ecum, and made a sound that meant : “ I 
want a little stick with fire on the end of 
it.” 

“You want a match, don’t you, 
Yoppy? ” asked Ecum. 

“ Um hum, um hum, eew-ew-o-o-o. Tu- 
tu-tute,” I answered. 

“ Give me a burnt one,” I heard some 
one say. 

I did not know what a burnt one meant, 

121 


Y O P P Y 


so I snatched the match, as Ecum called 
it. I examined it closely, and found that 
it did not look exactly like the matches that 
had fire on the end. However, I tried to 
use it. 

I thought of the way my friend Tackner 
used to get fire on his match, so, of course, 
I must do likewise. 

Tackner used to strike fire by scratching 
his match on the seat of his trousers. I 
did not wear trousers, but I could strike 
my match in the same place. I did so, and 
scratched so hard that the match hurt me. 
I dropped the match and fell to rubbing 
the injured part, while again I repeated 
my “ Ew-o-o-o, tute-tu-tute.” 

Of course the bakers laughed. They 
always laughed whenever I did anything 
a little out of the ordinary. 

I fussed for another match. Ecum gave 
me another, but it was just like the other, 
black at one end. I tried my best to light 
it, not where I had scratched it at first, 
but just on my shelf. It would not light, 
so I rubbed my finger over the blackened 

122 




Y O P P Y 


end and made a noise, that expressed my 
doubts. I almost knew that it was not like 
the kind the bakers used. 

After several attempts to strike a light, 
I threw the burnt match away in disgust, 
then sent the pipe after it. It broke, of 
course; pipes always break when you throw 
them on a stone floor. 

The baker tried to persuade me to try 
another match, but I would have nothing 
to do with it, and after that day, whenever 
any one offered me a match with the Are 
burned off, I would chatter as loudly as 
I could, and show my teeth in the most 
savage manner. I would either chew the 
match up, or throw it in the face of the 
one who gave it to me, giving him to under- 
stand distinctly that I knew a live match 
from a burned one, and I would not be 
fooled. 

I often watched the bakers when they 
were moulding bread. I could see them 
distinctly from my shelf in the back room, 
and how I longed to go into that work- 
room! I was absolutely certain that, if I 
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were allowed to help, I could mould a piece 
of dough as well as any baker, and I am 
sure that I could have made a loaf of bread 
such as no baker had ever seen. 

One day Ecum brought me a piece of 
dough, so I had an opportunity to test 
my skill. I Was delighted with the dough, 
and thanked Ecum in my own way, then 
I began to mould it. It took me some time 
to get it into the shape I desired, and some 
way the dough turned very dark. I could 
not understand why my loaf should turn 
so dark, while the baker’s loaves were as 
white as could be; still I was not discour- 
aged. When I tired of moulding the 
dough with my hands, I danced on it, 
which, of course, improved it amazingly. 
I moulded my loaf according to my idea. 
I dipped it into my drinking-cup, then 
rolled it in the sawdust. 

“ Very good,” I said, as I prepared to 
put it in my little pan. But just at that 
moment Teddy came in sight, and I 
changed my mind. I plunged the dough 
into my drinking-cup once more just to 

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make it more juicy, then I waited for 
Teddy. On he came, all unconscious of 
what was waiting for him. He had nearly 
crossed the room when I let the dough fly 
straight at his head. 

Oh, me! oh, my! wasn’t he mad! 
When it struck, it sounded something like 
the explosion of a torpedo. Of course, it 
attracted the bakers’ attention, and you 
should have heard them laugh. 

Yes, Teddy was mad, — madder than a 
wet hen. He never liked to be the laugh- 
ing-stock of the entire baker-shop force; 
and would you believe it? My Ecum was 
the greatest hector budget in the crowd. 

I thought Teddy never would forgive 
me for plugging that piece of dough at 
him, but he was very good-natured, indeed, 
and never harboured ill-feeling toward any 
one. 

That noontime, when Ecum returned 
from dinner, I was sitting on Teddy’s 
shoulder, scratching his head, and he was 
telling me what a darling I was. 

Ecum asked the bakers to come and see 

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the two monkeys. I could not see any 
monkey beside myself, and Teddy called 
Ecum a “ big chump.” 

Then the spell was broken. I knew that 
it was time to plague Teddy, so I stopped 
being good, and began to claw his nose, 
while Ecum stood by, his face beaming 
with fun, while he clapped his hands and 
kept repeating: “Go for him, Yop; give 
it to him.” 

I did until Teddy left in disgust. Then 
Ecum and I had our loving time, which 
was the happiest time in all the day for me. 


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CHAPTER XIV. 

ANOTHER MOVE 

I HAD been at the bake-shop about six 
months, and had learned to regard the place 
as my home, when one morning Ecum came 
to me and said: 

“ Well, Yop, how would you like to 
change your boarding-place? ” 

I did not know what he meant, but gave 
him to understand what was agreeable to 
him was agreeable to me. Teddy was sit- 
ting on a flour barrel. His face wore a 
broad grin when Ecum asked me about 
changing my boarding-place. 

“ What do you suppose your mother will 
think of having a monkey around? ” asked 
Teddy. 

“ Oh, I guess he and mother will get 
along all right,” answered Ecum. “ You 
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Y O P P Y 


know she has a particular weakness for 
dumb animals.” 

‘‘Yes, I know that she likes them, but 
your mother is a heap sight more particular 
than my mother, and my mother couldn’t 
be hired to keep a monkey in the house,” 
observed Teddy. 

In spite of Teddy’s discouraging re- 
marks, that same afternoon Ecum took me 
to his home. The homestead was a large, 
old-fashioned house, with very large rooms, 
in which there were a great many inter- 
esting things that made me feel as if here 
indeed were many new worlds to conquer. 

I thought I should not like Madam Her- 
bert, — she was Ecum’s mother, and was 
known to the members of the household as 
“ Nana.” She sputtered awfully when 
Ecum brought me home, — said I was a 
nasty little nuisance, that she never could 
keep anything in order; that if her house 
was to be turned into a menagerie, she 
would clear out, and so forth, and so 
forth. 

During this tirade Ecum was grinning 

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in a significant way he used on some occa- 
sions. I learned afterward that he always 
looked this way whenever mistress or Nana 
said things that they did not really mean, 
or when he knew that they would change 
their minds. 

As for me, when I had studied Nana’s 
face a few moments, I thought that her 
bark was worse than her bite, so to speak. 
I was sure of it later in the day when she 
and I were alone. She told me that I was 
a nice little Yoppy, and would you believe 
it, she opened my cage door, and allowed 
me to come out and romp over her in my 
most hilarious manner. And, although I 
pinched her nose and pulled her hair, and 
did lots of other things that my mistress 
would never allow, Nana just seemed to 
like it. After that she and I were the 
warmest friends, notwithstanding the fact 
that she often declared me the “ plague of 
her life.” 

The first day of my arrival, Ecum car- 
ried my cage to an up-stairs room, where 
he placed it with me in it on a table beside 
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the window. From this window I could 
see the orchard, the river, the Eastern rail- 
road bridge, and far in the distance I could 
see the woods and hills. It was a lovely 
view, and I felt certain that I should be 
happier here than I had been since I left 
my mother. 

The room in which I was to live was 
large and airy. There were four windows. 
At two of them there were bird-cages in 
which lived Dicky and Danny, two tiny 
canaries that sang from morning until 
night. At every other window except mine 
there were plants, such lovely plants ! They 
made me think of the jungle. The room 
was a sort of den, music-room, sitting-room, 
and general workroom. It was very cosy, 
with its couch and pillows, its soft warm 
carpet, its pretty draperies, and pictures. 
Near one window stood mistress’s sewing- 
machine, where she made the most delight- 
ful racket whenever she stitched. Then 
there was her desk and bookcase and a 
sewing-cabinet, where all sorts of myster- 
ies were tucked away. I hoped that the 

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time would come when I could explore its 
regions, and learn more of its mysteries. 

In one corner stood Ecum’s ’cello; beside 
it stood a music-rack, where sheets of music 
and a lesson book were tucked in. In this 
corner every evening Ecum would sit and 
practise his music lesson, while mistress 
would sit at her desk and scribble for hours. 

I should have been very lonely in my 
new home were it not for mistress. She was 
with me much of the time, but my very 
happiest time was when Ecum was at home. 
Sometimes mistress left me alone. At such 
times I bent my energies on trying to open 
my cage. One morning I had worked 
unceasingly on my cage door, and was re- 
warded by discovering a way to unlock it. 
I opened it at once and walked out. I 
had longed to examine the contents of that 
mysterious cabinet. Now, at last, the op- 
portunity was mine. 

There was a pretty flowered curtain 
hung across the front of the cabinet. I 
thrust it aside and poked my head within. 
A work-basket was the first thing to take 
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Y O P P Y 


my eye. I pulled it on to the floor. The 
next half “hour I was the happiest monkey 
in monkeydom. There were pins, needles, 
spool cotton, silks, buttons, tape measures, 
and no end of other things. I pulled yards 
and yards of thread from the spools, and 
tangled it in such a way that no one could 
unravel it, then left it in a snarl on the 
floor. 

The next thing that attracted my atten- 
tion was a little red thing that looked like 
a strawberry. I chewed it, and got a 
mouthful of sand or something gritty. I 
learned afterward that the little red thing 
was called an ‘‘ emery bag,” and wasn’t 
good to eat. 

The buttons were in a neat little box, 
the hooks and eyes in another; the pins 
were standing in prim rows in a paper; 
the needles were tucked nicely in a cushion; 
the spools were in little pockets at the sides 
of the basket. 

I turned the buttons on the floor, and 
scattered them toward all the points of the 
compass. I upset the box of hooks and 

132 


Y O P P Y 


eyes, and strewed them about among the 
buttons, then I chewed up the box. Next 
came the pins. Such precision could never 
be tolerated in the land of monkeys. So 
I pulled every one from the paper, and 
scattered them far and wide. Then came 
the needles. I pulled every one of them 
from their soft little cushion, and away 
they went after the pins. I stuck one into 
my finger, which made me squeal, but, of 
course, there was no one to blame but my- 
self. 

I grew nervous over the work-basket. 
It occurred to me that I was spending too 
much time with it, so I dumped it bottom 
side up, and turned my attention to the 
cabinet once more. On the next shelf I 
found a box of paper patterns. Each of 
these patterns were standing on its edge 
in almost as good order as the pins had 
stood in their paper; each pattern was 
pinned together, and looked as if they had 
never been out of order. I had seen mis- 
tress take this box from its hiding-place in 
the cabinet, run her finger through the pat- 
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Y O P P Y 


terns until she found the one that she was 
hunting for, which she would take out, and 
put the box back in its place. It could 
not be expected that I would be content 
to do as mistress did, so I pulled the pat- 
terns out, all in a bunch. No mincing mat- 
ters for me, if you please. 

Having emptied the pattern box, it was 
my duty to examine the patterns to see 
what further improvements I could make., 
I began by taking out the pins, then I 
opened the patterns and unfolded every 
piece. It was no easy task, I assure you, 
but I did it all myself, and was much grati- 
fied with the result. After pulling those 
patterns all to pieces, I turned somersaults 
in them, and mixed them up in such a man- 
ner that it took mistress several days before 
she could sort them out, and tell “ t’other 
from which.” It was a grand mix-up, to 
be sure, and, oh, how I enjoyed it! 

On the next shelf, tucked away, I found 
the family mending; each article lay in 
its own place, waiting its turn to be 
mended. I pulled all on to the floor and 

134 


Y O P P Y 


left them. Family mending did not inter- 
est me very much, so I turned my atten- 
tion to mistress’s desk. 

Here, indeed, could be found a rare 
treat for any monkey. I had often 
watched mistress as she sat at this desk, 
writing, writing, writing, as if her life 
depended on her task. At such times she 
paid no attention to any one, but worked 
steadily until she had finished what she 
called her “ stint.” She never allowed me 
to sit on her shoulder or come anywhere 
near her while she was writing. I won- 
dered what it meant, and could see no sense 
in her everlasting scribbling. Now was my 
opportunity to look into the mysteries of 
that desk, so I went about it in true monkey 
fashion. 

At one side of the desk there was a pile 
of paper that mistress called her ‘‘ manu- 
script.” It was covered with mistress’s 
handwriting, but it looked more like hen 
scratches. I had heard mistress tell Ecum 
that she was writing a “ five-act drama.” 
I did not know what that was, and never 
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Y O P P Y 


could get any sense out of it. Another 
thing that puzzled me was why mistress 
should take so much trouble to cover those 
sheets so sparingly with her five-act drama 
when she might have covered the paper 
with one splash by just upsetting the ink- 
bottle. 

I decided to give mistress a lesson. I 
was very sure that she would thank me 
for showing her the easier way. It was 
but the work of a moment to turn the con- 
tents of the ink-bottle over those sparingly 
covered sheets, and such a delightful mess 
as it made. I dragged the sheets apart that 
the ink might cover all the pages, and I 
patted my hands in the ink as it slowly 
spread itself, and when I slapped my hands 
in the ink, it spattered over everything. I 
was in a most blissful state of mind. And 
after that, everything that I touched 
showed the prints of monkey fingers in 
black and white, or black and any other 
colour, as it happened. 

Despite all my efforts to cover those 
sheets of five-act drama, th^re were some 

136 


Y O P P Y 


that the ink did not reach, so I chewed the 
remaining ones, or tore them to bits, and 
I was convinced that I had done much 
better work than my mistress ever had. 

There were other interesting things in 
the desk. I ransacked it from top to bot- 
tom, pulled everything from the pigeon- 
holes, chewed everything that was chewable, 
tore everything that was tearable, reduced 
photographs to pulp in the shortest time 
imaginable, and then looked around for 
new worlds to conquer. What should I 
do next? Just then I heard the voice of 
my mistress. She had come from her morn- 
ing’s trip to market, and, while I was per- 
fectly satisfied with what I had done, I 
began to have grave doubts as to how mis- 
tress would take it. I decided that to be 
on the safe side I had better go back to my 
cage, which I did in the biggest kind of a 
hurry. 


137 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XV. 

WHAT MISTRESS THOUGHT OF IT 

I HAD barely time to scramble into my 
cage when I heard mistress coming up the 
stairs. She was never slow in her move- 
ments, and this time I am quite positive 
that she came up-stairs two steps at a time. 
I bounced into the corner of my cage and 
cuddled down in a heap. I waited a few 
seconds, then I heard mistress calling: 

“ Missy’s coming, Yoppydil.” 

Yoppydil made no reply. Just at that 
moment he was trying very hard to keep 
his eyes from blinking. It is very difficult 
for a monkey to keep his eyes closed when 
he isn’t asleep. Well, mistress arrived on 
the scene, and I waited in doubt as to how 
she would accept the improvements I had 
made. Human beings are so uncertain that 

138 


Y O P P Y 


one never knows how they are going to 
take things. Then again, I remembered 
that in all the improvements I had made in 
household arrangements, no one had ever 
thanked me. Mistress, however, might look 
at things differently. 

I could not help chuckling to myself as 
I peeped from the corner of my eye and 
saw the expression of blank amazement 
with which mistress regarded the changes. 
Ecum came trotting up-stairs behind her, 
and soon stood in the doorway looking over 
her shoulder. Then she found her voice. 

“Oh! oh! oh!” she exclaimed, as she 
took in the state of affairs at her desk. 

Ecum took in the state of affairs also, 
and laughed as I had never before heard 
him laugh. 

“ My precious manuscript,” continued 
mistress, when she discovered what was left 
of her five-act drama. “ It is ruined! just 
ruined! every mite of it; three whole acts 
and two scenes of the fourth, the work of 
weeks; and my patterns, and my work- 
basket! ” 

139 


Y O P P Y 


Ecum laughed and laughed. I kept very 
quiet indeed. There are times when even a 
monkey feels like being very quiet. 

“ Henry Herbert, how can you laugh 
when that httle imp has done so much mis- 
chief? ” came from mistress as she crossed 
the room, sat down beside her desk, and 
began to cry. 

I might have known that mistress was no 
different from other human beings, and 
that she would not be any more appreciative 
than the others whom I had tried to help. 
Instead of telling me what a good boy I 
was, she sat crying over what I had done, 
but what could one expect, for, after all, 
my mistress was only human. 

I never could bear to see any one shed 
tears, so I crawled from my cage and went 
directly to mistress. I climbed into her lap 
and tried to pull her handkerchief away 
from her eyes. I patted her face, kissed 
her neck and ears, but she paid no attention 
to me. 

I made all the plaintive little sounds that 
I could command, just to let her know how 

140 


Y O P P Y 


sorry I was. I appealed to Ecum, who 
stood watching me, but he only smiled, and 
would do nothing to help me. 

After a few moments, mistress took her 
handkerchief away from her face; her eyes 
were very red. I looked imploringly into 
them, and begged her to forgive me and 
love me again. I smacked my lips at her, 
and made more plaintive sounds, but it did 
no good; she just allowed me to sit in her 
lap while another tear trickled down her 
cheek. 

I felt very serious. I had never before 
failed to win her forgiveness. I crawled 
on to her arm, and made one more effort 
to be forgiven. Then with a solemn air 
I began to trace with my finger the lines 
the tears had made down her cheek. 

I never knew exactly what moved mis- 
tress to forgiveness, nor did I understand 
what Ecum meant when he said: 

“ That little rascal knows more than we 
have given him credit for.” But this I 
did imderstand, that mistress began to 
laugh, and took me in her arms, saying: 
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Y O P P Y 


“ Oh, Yoppydil! Yoppydil! you have 
been a naughty, naughty boy, but you are a 
little darling all the same, and you are only 
a monkey at best.” 

To be sure, I was only a monkey at best 
or any other way, and if mistress or any 
one else expected me to be anything but 
a monkey, they would be very much mis- 
taken. 

But that was not the worst of it. After 
mistress had forgiven me, and I had been 
petted by her and Ecum in turn, I was 
sent back to my cage, and had my door 
fastened with a padlock. And no amount 
of monkey ingenuity could unfasten that 
padlock while the key was in Ecum’s vest 
pocket. 


142 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XVI. 

WHEN APPLE BOUGHS WERE RED 

For several weeks after my destruction 
of mistress’s five-act drama, and the vari- 
ous other bits of what she called “ mis- 
chief,” I was kept in my cage the greater 
part of my time. I had quite given up the 
idea of opening the padlock, and tried to 
make the best of my confinement. 

It was very lonely to be shut into a cage 
when my people were away, but they had 
not fully learned my likes and dislikes. I 
loved company, and was never happy alone. 
To be sure, I had my daily airing with 
mistress, and an evening frolic with Ecum, 
and sometimes in the evening I was allowed 
to play with Freddy and the cats. I al- 
ways shared my peanuts with Freddy, and 
he always liked to have me shell them, as 
143 


Y O P P Y 


he was only a dog and had nothing but 
his teeth to work with, and, of course, he 
never could get the brown skin from the 
peanuts as I could. 

It seemed the most natural thing in the 
world for me to sit on the hassock and feed 
Freddy, as I could do it so easily. Freddy 
himself did not think it at all strange, but 
Ecum and mistress thought it was the 
queerest sight they ever saw. 

I used to sit on the hassock, with my feet 
on the floor and a bag of peanuts between 
my knees. I would sometimes shell a pea- 
nut, give Freddy the first piece, then put 
the other half in my own mouth. In this 
way we soon ate a half -pint of peanuts, 
which was as many as we were allowed to 
eat at a time. Sometimes when I had 
eaten all I wanted, I would give all that 
was left to Freddy, and whenever I grew 
tired of feeding him, he would sit up and 
beg. It was a funny sight to see a big 
dog like Freddy sitting up and begging 
a little monkey like me to feed him. 

I always enjoyed playing with Polly. 

144 







Y O P P Y 


Since my coming to Dingleberry, Polly 
had grown to be quite a large cat, but she 
was as gentle and affectionate as ever. 
Connie and I were never on very intimate 
terms; she, too, had grown, but she never 
was and never would be like my Polly. 

I suppose I ought to have been satisfied 
with my privileges, but I was not. I 
longed to roam at large over the old house, 
and to examine things about the premises, 
and to do exactly as I pleased without any 
interference from any one. 

When the apples and pears were ripe, 
I had the most delightful time helping to 
pick them. On sunny days, when the 
weather was very warm, Ecum would take 
me into the orchard and fasten my chain 
to the limb of a tree, then what a glorious 
time I had! At first Ecum scolded at my 
way of picking. He objected to my tak- 
ing a bite from every apple that I could 
get my hands on. After awhile I imder- 
stood that I must eat one whole apple and 
let the others alone. During our picking 
season, Ecum taught me to get the apples 
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Y O P P Y 


that were out of his reach. It was very 
pleasant to hear him say: 

“ That’s the boy, Yoppy. Nice little boy, 
Yoppy. I guess he knows how to pick 
apples.” 

“ I guess I do, I guess I do,” I used to 
say in my own language. Then Ecum 
would look pleased and say: “ There’s an- 
other apple, Yoppy,” whereupon I would 
climb to the limb to which he pointed and 
would secure the apple. Mistress would 
sometimes stand under the tree and hold 
her apron to catch the apples. 

It was a great temptation, such lovely 
red apples! I just wanted to bite every 
one of them, but Ecum always said: 

“ No, no, Yoppy mustn’t,” so of course 
I had to mind. 

One day Teddy came to help us pick 
apples. I dare say Ecum thought me very 
clever because I learned to pick apples so 
dexterously, but it was nothing strange at 
all. Why should I not learn? Why, my 
dear people, monkeys or any other animals 
are bright if they are given good care. 

146 


Y O P P Y 


But I am wandering from my subject. 
I was telling about Teddy, who was one of 
the humans who always have an exciting 
influence over me. In Teddy’s presence 
I always acted more hilarious than I did 
in the presence of any one else. Ecum used 
to say that I always showed off when 
Teddy was around, and perhaps I did. 
When Teddy came to the orchard that 
day, I screamed with delight. I was al- 
ways glad to see my old friends, and was 
particularly fond of Teddy. 

It has been said that human children 
always like to show off before visitors, and 
in this respect I think that young monkeys 
are like them. At any rate, I always felt 
like cutting up didoes whenever any one 
was watching me. So when I saw Teddy, 
I began to caper. I pulled a large apple 
from the branch over my head and made 
motions to throw it at him. Ecum stood 
watching me. I knew by the expression 
of his face that he was willing for me to 
do anything I pleased to Teddy. I was 
in no hurry, however, but kept playing jug- 
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Y O P P Y 


gler with my apple. I would hold the 
apple on my nose and try to balance it 
there, but it would not balance worth a 
cent. Then I would hold it over my head, 
and make Teddy think I was going to 
throw it. When I did this, he would scold 
and say: 

“ Don’t yer do it, Yop, don’t yer do 
it.” 

I did not, at least not that moment, but 
once when Teddy was talking to Ecum, 
and was not thinking about me or my 
apple, some way — I never knew exactly 
how it happened — I rather guess the apple 
slipped, for it left my hands suddenly, 
and went spinning through the air, and 
just at that moment, unfortunately for 
Teddy, he turned his head, and my apple 
went whack against his nose. 

“ Genie crip, Yop, what’s yer doin’ 
there!” exclaimed Teddy, as he clapped 
his hand over his nose. 

Ecum and mistress just howled; laugh- 
ing was no name for it. I laughed, too, 
it was so very funny, but, like all my 

148 


Y O P P Y 


pranks, there was a serious ending to this 
one. Poor, poor Teddy! I had made the 
blood come out of his nose. It trickled 
through his finger. I saw it, and did not 
feel like laughing any more. I climbed 
down to the lowest limb of the tree, and 
tried to reach Teddy. He had taken his 
handkerchief and was mopping the blood 
from his nose. He would not let me com- 
fort him; I guess he was mad. I wanted 
to examine his nose, and find out just what 
made the blood come, but Teddy was so out 
of sorts that he would not come near me. 
I was sorry, very sorry, indeed, and I told 
Teddy so, as plainly as my monkey lan- 
guage could express it, but it was of no 
use, for Teddy went away holding his 
handkerchief up to his nose. Just before 
he left the orchard, he turned to Ecum and 
said: 

‘‘ You just wait until I come over to 
help you pick apples again. You won’t 
set yer old monkey to throwing apples at 
me.” 

The idea! as if Ecum was to blame for 

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Y O P P Y 


that accident, or was it an accident? I’m 
sure I can’t remember, for it happened 
some time ago, so the reader must draw 
his own conclusion. 


150 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XVII. 

XJNDEE KANA’s MANAGEMENT 

Late in the fall, after the apples were 
all picked and stored away for winter use, 
Ecum and mistress took a trip to New 
York. I fussed a little when they went 
away, but was soon consoled, for scarcely 
had their carriage rolled away from the 
door before Nana was standing beside my 
cage with the key to my padlock in her 
hand. 

“ Now, Yoppydil,’’ she said, ‘‘ I am go- 
ing to have things managed differently. 
I never did believe in keeping you hived 
up in that cage, and, while you are under 
my care, I shall do as I please.” 

By the time Nana had finished her 
speech, she had the lock unfastened and 
the door open. 

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Y O P P Y 


Of course, I agreed with her fully, and 
told her so with my “ Um hum, um hum,” 
and straightway crawled out of my cage. 

Ecum and mistress had bidden me an 
affectionate good-bye, and told me to be 
a good boy. If course I intended to be 
good. How on earth could I be otherwise, 
shut up in a cage that was fastened with 
a padlock? Now, however, all was changed. 
Dear old Nana had set me free, and for the 
time being I was happy indeed. 

“ There ’ittle Yoppydil,” said Nana, as 
I started toward the door, holding my chain 
carefully coiled over my arm lest it might 
get caught in something. 

‘‘ Um hum,” I answered, “ um hum,” in 
tones of delight. 

“ So you like it, darling? I knew you 
would,” continued Nana, as she followed 
me down-stairs. 

It took but a few moments to find the 
kitchen, and Nana looked so pleased to see 
me enjoying myself that I decided at once 
to make thinks interesting. 

Perhaps it would have been wisdom on 

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Y O P P Y 


Nana’s part had she left the key to my 
padlock in her pocket, but Nana always 
liked to manage things according to her 
own ideas, so I will leave it to the reader 
as to whether or not she was wise. 

The first thing I did when I reached the 
kitchen was to go straightway to the sink, 
climb its side, and take a drink from the 
drops that ran from the faucet. 

Nana thought this a wonderful thing 
for me to do, as I smacked my lips, and 
made a sound which meant that I was very 
much pleased at being allowed to help 
myself. 

The door-bell rang, and Nana left me 
in the kitchen while she answered the ring. 
Nothing could have pleased me better. I 
looked about to see what there was to ex- 
amine. There was the clock on the kitchen 
mantel. I had seen a clock before. Its 
slow, monotonous tick-tick made me feel as 
if I would like to shake more life into it. 

I was on the shelf beside it in a moment, 
and opened the door at once. There was 
a thing that made the tick-tick by swing- 
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ing to and fro. It was about as large as 
a butter cracker, and looked like Ecum’s 
watch, only it was not so bright and shiny. 
I examined it closely, then took it in my 
hand. The tick-tick stopped. I took it 
from its fastening and laid it on the shelf. 
I should have thrown it on the floor, but 
I knew that it would make a noise. 

On closer examination I found that the 
clock had two doors. I opened the inside 
one, and such a sight as met my gaze! 
There were wheels and wheels enough to 
delight the heart of any monkey. I de- 
termined on the spot to become a clock- 
maker, or perhaps I meant to be an “ un- 
maker.” I’m sure I don’t know which. I 
had never learned much about putting 
things together, but I was a master-hand 
at taking things apart. 

So I set to work to remove the wheels 
from Nana’s clock. For some time I 
worked away with all my might, trying 
to dissect that machinery, giving a pull here 
and a poke there. I was certain that I 


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should have the contents of that clock out 
in a moment if I only could get at it. 

I decided to take the clock in my lap, 
then I could manage it nicely. 

I had succeeded in pulling it around cor- 
nerwise, and was struggling to take it 
across my lap, when my foot slipped, and 
the clock turned a somersault and landed 
on the floor. 

Dear me! dear me! what a crash it 
made! I think my hair must have stood on 
ends. The noise brought Nana into the 
kitchen, and of course she had something 
to say. Human beings always have some- 
thing to say whenever anything is broken. 
This is what Nana said: 

“ Oh, Yoppy, Yoppy! what have you 
done? My mother’s clock that I have 
treasured for years! ” 

I sat on the edge of the shelf looking 
the picture of seriousness. I had not the 
slightest idea that matters would turn out 
as they had. And there was the clock, or 
what was left of it, on the floor, and I had 
not had the satisfaction of taking it apart 

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Y O P P Y 


myself, and there stood Nana almost ready 
to cry. She was saying: “ I guess, Yoppy, 
that I shall be obliged to tie you up. You 
are too full of mischief to be allowed to 
roam at large.” 

So I was fastened to a chair, on which 
I sat for some time meditating on the ways 
of human beings; while Nana went back to 
her company. 

After the caller had gone, Nana came 
back to the kitchen to see if everything 
was as it should be. Of course I was very 
quiet. Who wouldn’t be after such a dis- 
appointment and shock as I had had? 

“ Now, Yoppy dil,” said Nana, holding 
up one finger, “ Nana is going up-stairs, 
and I want you to be a good boy.” 

I made a little noise that meant, “ Yes, 
oh, yes, I will be good.” Then she left 
me. 

I had really intended to be good, for, 
as far as I could see, there was nothing 
else to do. There was nothing within my 
reach except the chair I sat on and the 
kitchen stove. Oh, yes, to be sure, there 

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was the stove. Could I do anything to 
that? 

I was not sure. Sometimes stoves are 
dangerous things to play with, sometimes 
they are not. It depends wholly on how 
much fire there is in them. 

I crept toward the stove and held out 
my hand cautiously. There was not much 
heat at that end. I touched my finger to 
the shelf at the back. It was warm, but 
not hot, so I climbed upon it and sat down. 
It was very comfortable. 

On the back of the stove, and within my 
arm’s length, stood a kettle. I stood up- 
right and looked into it. It was filled with 
something that was dark coloured and 
smelled very nice. I drew the kettle toward 
me and sniffed its contents. It smelled 
very good, indeed, of sugar and spice and 
everything nice. I scraped a little of the 
stuff from the side of the kettle and tasted 
it. It did not taste so good as it smelled; 
it bit my tongue, and I did not like it at 
all. 

“ What was the use of having anything 

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that wasn’t good to eat? ” I thought, as I 
began to drag the kettle nearer the edge of 
the stove. It was exceedingly heavy, yet, 
with a great deal of puffing and grunting, 
I succeeded in landing that kettle and its 
contents on the floor. And would you be- 
lieve it? that kettle made a great deal more 
noise than the clock had made. 

Of course Nana came hurrying down- 
stairs. I knew that she would after hear- 
ing that racket. I waited in almost breath- 
less suspense for what would happen next. 

“ Oh, my Chili sauce! ” was all that Nana 
said, as she stood looking at the mess. 

So it was chilly sauce that had burnt my 
tongue. I did not think there was any- 
thing very chilly about it, but I did think 
it was something saucy, 

I fully expected that I should be ban- 
ished to my cage once more. But no, Nana 
only fastened me in the cellarway, and I 
grinned at the prospects before me. 


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CHAPTER XVIII. 

A LESSON IN PIE - BAKING 

It was baking day, and Nana stood in 
the pantry mixing pie crust. She had fas- 
tened my chain to a flat-iron that I could 
not lift, and had placed the iron on the 
wood-box at the end of her work -bench. 
In that way I could easily reach one end 
of the bench and watch her make pies. 

Nana had placed another iron on a piece 
of oilcloth which she had donated for my 
especial use, and from the weight of the 
flat-iron one could easily see that she in- 
tended the oilcloth to stay where it was 
put. 

So, after tugging at the iron, and flnd- 
ing that I could not lift it, I sat on the 
handle and nibbled a cookie, while I 
watched the progress of pie-baking. I 
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had eaten my cookie, and was watching 
Nana with the greatest interest, when it 
occurred to me that I, too, could make a 
pie. I was very sure that I could do ex- 
actly as Nana was doing if I had the ma- 
terial to work with. My fingers itched to 
get hold of a piece of dough, so I made a 
great rumpus until Nana gave me a piece. 

“ There,” she said, “ take that, you noisy 
rascal,” as she threw the dough at me. 

I seized the dough, and was delighted 
with it. I made all sorts of pleasant sounds 
to show Nana how much I appreciated her 
kindness, then I proceeded to make my pie. 

At first the dough stuck to my fingers, 
and for some reason it began to turn dark, 
just as the bakeshop dough had turned 
when I tried to mould it. I held the dough 
up for Nana’s inspection, and asked in my 
own way why it did so. She did not under- 
stand, as all she said was: 

“ O Yoppydil, how dirty your hands 
are!” 

I tried to make my dough into a patty- 
cake, as Nana was making hers. I found 

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that I could not make pies or anything 
else without the proper material. I wanted 
some of the white stuff that Nana scattered 
over her dough. I made my dough into 
a ball, and laid it on the bench, while I sat 
for some time watching Nana. I did not 
quite understand, but I could see how 
deftly she worked. It seemed to be the 
white stuff that made Nana’s work so easy. 

From my point of observation I could 
see everything that Nana did. At first she 
would scatter white stuff over the board, 
then she would roll out a piece of dough; 
sometimes she would sprinkle a little of 
the white stuff over the dough. When 
nicely rolled out, she would spread the 
pattycake on a plate, then put something 
dark, that she called “ mince meat,” into 
her pies; she would then put on a covering 
and bake it. 

I knew by this time that it was the white 
stuff, so I began to fuss for some. I 
longed to get at Nana’s end of the bench 
and help myself. I tried again to lift the 
iron, but it would not move. Then I made 

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the biggest row until Nana got out of 
patience and exclaimed: 

“ For goodness’ sake, Yoppy! What do 
you want now? ” 

I held my hands toward the thing that 
the white stuiF was in, squealing all the 
while. 

“ Oh, you want my flour-sifter, do you? ” 
she said. “ Well, you can’t have it, but 
I will give you some flour.” 

That was exactly what I wanted, and, 
as Nana put some on my end of the bench, 
I expressed my appreciation as well as I 
was capable of expressing myself. I scat- 
tered the flour over my piece of dough, 
and over a large portion of the bench, while 
Nana stood watching me. I tried to per- 
suade her to give me her rolling-pin, but 
she gave me a clothes-pin instead, which 
answered every purpose, and again I ex- 
pressed my delight. Nana was really be- 
coming quite intelligent. 

I could not handle my dough as skilfully 
as Nana did hers, but I did the best I 
could. When I had succeeded in getting 

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my pie crust into shape, a new difficulty 
arose, — I had no plate on which to bake it. 
By the time I had my crust ready for bak- 
ing, Nana had become very much interested 
in my work. Indeed, it was high time that 
she did appreciate my cleverness. So when 
I held up my crust and puckered up my 
mouth with a “ Tu-te-to-tu-tute,” she knew 
perfectly well that I wanted a plate. She 
went to the cupboard and brought out a 
tin one. It was a funny little plate with 
figures around the edge, or was it letters? 
They were like these: A, B, C, etc. Nana 
said the plate belonged to my Uncle 
Charles — that was my Ecum’s brother. 
As soon as Nana laid the plate on the 
bench, I straightway clapped my pie crust 
into it, and began to tuck the edges in, 
just the way Nana had done. 

Having finished tucking the edges in, I 
fussed for some mince meat. Nana gave 
me a spoonful, but it smelled so good that 
I tasted it. It tasted so good that I ate 
every mite of it, and decided to bake my 
pie without it. 

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Y O P P Y 


When I thought the pie was all ready for 
the oven, I learned one thing more. I had 
seen Nana make little slits with a knife 
in her pie crust. I had no knife, so I made 
little marks in my pie crust with my fingers, 
chattering all the while to Nana in the most 
confidential manner. I am sure that she 
understood from my tones and expressions 
that I was perfectly willing to follow her 
example, and do everything that she did. 

When my pie was ready, I held it up 
with an air of triumph for Nana’s ap- 
proval. 

“ Well, well, Yoppydil,” she said, “ you 
do beat all the creatures that I ever saw.” 
Then she kissed me on my head and added, 
“You darling.” 

I thought I would throw my pie on the 
floor and hear it smash, but Nana took it 
from my hands and put it in the oven. 
While the pie was baking, I had some rai- 
sins and another taste of mince meat; then 
Nana washed my hands, and helped to 
pick the dough from my fingers. Next 
she cleaned the flour from my end of the 

164 


Y O P P Y 


work-bench, while I sat on the handle of 
the flat-iron and chatted to her in my most 
alFable manner. 

When my pie came out of the oven, it 
was several shades darker than Nana’s pies. 
I looked at her pies, then at my own, and 
asked her what made the difference, but 
either she did not understand, or was in- 
capable of explaining. At any rate, I 
never learned why Nana’s pies were such 
a nice light brown and mine was so near 
black. 

When my precious pie was cool, I ate 
a part of it, and gave a part to Freddy. 
He must have smelled it, for he was very 
fond of pie crust. I offered to feed Nana 
with the remaining portion, but she grinned 
at me and said: 

“ No, I thank you, sir, I’d rather be ex- 
cused.” Strange that she would not even 
taste it, after I had taken so much pains 
with it. 

I sat for some time thinking what I 
would do next, when I noticed that Nana 
had pushed her cake-board over toward 
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Y O P P Y 


my end of the shelf. Nana was fussing 
around the stove, and was not paying any 
attention to me. There was a piece of crust 
rolled out on the moulding-board, all ready 
to be put over a pie. In a flash it occurred 
to me that I would appropriate that crust 
for my own use, so I reached for the 
board. I could barely reach the corner, 
but I had no difficulty in pulling it toward 
me and securing the nicely rolled pie crust, 
and, when Nana came to the pantry to fin- 
ish her pie, I was sitting on the handle of 
the flat-iron, tucking the pie crust under 
my legs and around my sides as I had seen 
Ecum tuck in his carriage robe. 

Nana said that she had a great mind to 
spank me, I was so naughty. She did not 
spank me, but she scolded me until I cried, 
then she petted me, and told me that I 
didn’t know any better. 

Didn’t I, though? That was as much as 
Nana knew about it. 

But the worst part of that performance 
was that never again was I allowed to 
assist in her pie-baking. 


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Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A LITTLE MORE ROPE 

It was the last day that Nana and I 
were to be alone. She had told me that 
morning that she expected to see my master 
and mistress before supper, and that I must 
make the most of my holiday. 

Oh, yes, I would be delighted to make 
the most of my holiday if only I could have 
a chance, for, since the day I had taken 
Nana’s pie crust and had used it for a lap- 
robe, she was a little more careful where 
she tied me, and how much rope she al- 
lowed. 

My rope, or, more correctly speaking, 
my chain, had been fastened to a staple 
in the cellarway, which gave me liberty to 
sit on the kitchen door-sill. I wanted more 
‘‘ rope,” as Nana called it, and I knew just 
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how to get it. I had learned that a series 
of plaintive noises from me never failed 
to bring a response from Nana, so I made 
as many of those noises as I considered 
necessary, and very soon Nana dropped the 
broom and dust-pan and came to see what 
I wanted. 

I put my head on one side and looked 
as pensive as I could, while I scratched my 
head slowly and thoughtfully, occasionally 
making one of my faint little sounds. It 
had the desired effect sooner than I had 
expected. Nana looked very sympathetic 
as she said: 

“ You poor little abused darling, shut 
up out here all alone! ” 

I made another doleful little sound, and 
assumed my most beseeching expression. 

“ You want more rope, don’t you, Yop- 
pydil? Well, Nana will give you more. 
Yes, she will.” 

Just what I wanted exactly. Nana 
brought a piece of rope and fastened it 
to the end of my chain. This rope gave 


168 


Y O P P Y 


me about a yard more scope. Yes, indeed, 
this was exactly what I wanted. 

“ There, darling,” Nana said, looking as 
pleased as could be, “ I guess you will like 
that much better.” 

“ I guess I shall, I guess I shall,” I re- 
peated in my monkey language. Then 
Nana went about her business, and I set 
myself about mine. Yes, indeed, now I 
could make the best of my few hours of 
liberty. 

Just inside the cellar door stood the sink, 
and under the sink there was a door. I 
longed to explore beyond it, and had made 
every effort to do so, but my chain was 
always too short. Now, however, I could 
explore at my own sweet will. 

I pulled the door open and peeped in. 
Here were untold treasures : oil-cans, 
blacking brushes, scouring materials, and 
all sorts and sizes of kettles and things. 
And in the farthest corner stood a bottle 
of Hood’s Sarsaparilla. 

“ Very good,” said I, as I began to pull 
things out. First I took the blacking brush 
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Y O P P Y 


and the saucer in which I had seen Nana 
mix her blacking. I had been very much 
interested in the shining of Nana’s stove, 
and I should like very much to have blacked 
it myself, but, as I could not reach the 
stove, I decided to give the floor a shine, 
including as much of the woodwork about 
the sink as I could reach. 

The blacking in the saucer was some- 
what dry, so I poured in a little oil from 
the oil-can, and then tried to get some 
blacking on my brush. It did not stick as 
I should like to have it, so I rummaged 
under the sink for more blacking. I soon 
found the very thing I wanted — a pack- 
age of powdered blacking. Oh, me! oh, 
my! what a treat for a monkey! 

As there seemed to be plenty of blacking, 
I could see no reason why I should waste a 
lot of time mixing it in the blacking saucer, 
besides, the saucer was already full of oil. 
I dumped the entire package on the floor, 
and prepared to give the floor such a shine 
as it had never known before. 

There must have been nearly a pound 

170 


Y O P P Y 


of that black powder, into which I poured 
more oil from the oil-can. How black and 
shiny it looked as it spread itself over the 
kitchen floor! I slopped the blacking brush 
into it. Of course, it made spatters all 
over the woodwork around the sink. I 
viewed the spatters with monkeyish ap- 
proval, and fell to polishing the floor. 

As far as I could reach I daubed the 
blacking, rubbing it into the floor as well 
as I could, adding more oil as I thought 
it was needed, until that particular part of 
the floor shone like a spandy new stove. 
Then I blacked the woodwork about the 
sink as far as I could reach. It was great 
fun, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. 

When I had used all the oil I wanted, 
I turned the can on its side. The oil 
trickled from the snout, and ran across 
the floor in a most delightful stream. In 
the height of my jubilation, I seized the 
bottle of Hood’s Sarsaparilla. Nana called 
this her “ spring medicine.” I did not 
approve of spring medicines, so poured it 


171 


Y O P P Y 


down the cellar stairs, and stood the bottle 
on its head in the corner. 

Next I gave the floor another shine, and 
then rubbed what was left, or rather what 
I could take up on the brush, on the cellar 
stairs. The effect was delightful. I was 
in a perfectly blissful state of mind, and 
was thoroughly satisfied with my work as 
I viewed it from the cellar doorway. 

Now that my work was finished, I could 
play, so I took the empty sarsaparilla bottle 
and began to dance it up and down. Just 
then some one gave the door-bell a yank 
and startled me, which made me give my 
chain a yank, and caused me to drop the 
bottle. It went thump, thump, thump, 
down the cellar stairs, and with a crash 
it smashed on the concrete floor. I might 
have known that something would smash 
just as I was having a good time. 

I heard Nana descend the stairs, and 
heard a commotion in the hallway, then 
I heard the voices of Ecum and mistress. 
I knew that my liberty was nearing its 
end. 


172 


Y O P P Y 


“ I thought you were not coming until 
afternoon,” I heard Nana say. 

“We changed our plan, mother,” an- 
swered Ecum. 

I seized the blacking brush, and fell to 
polishing with all my might. I thought 
that if Nana found fault with my work 
she must be very hard to please. 

I heard Ecum and mistress going up- 
stairs. Nana came into the kitchen. Per- 
haps she had heard the noise that pesky 
bottle made when it went thumping down- 
stairs. I think she did not want Ecum to 
know that I was out of my cage, as her 
voice was much lower than usual as she 
spoke to me from behind the cellar door. 

“I’m afraid, Yoppydil, that you have 
been doing mischief,” she said, then she 
swung the door back. There I was scrub- 
bing away as if my life depended on it. 

“For the Lord sakes!” Nana gasped, 
as she took in the situation. I wish you 
could have seen the expression of her face; 
truly, it was a study. 

Then Ecum and mistress came down- 

173 


Y O P P Y 


stairs and into the kitchen. I kept right 
on polishing. 

“Where’s Yop? He isn’t in his cage,” 
I heard Ecum ask. 

“ He’s there,” said Nana, waving her 
hand toward me in the most tragic manner. 
“ I had him fastened in the stairway, and 
he fussed for more rope, which I gave him, 
and this is my reward.” 

There was one particular spot on the 
floor that needed a great deal of polishing, 
so I polished with all my might. 

Ecum began laughing, just as I knew he 
would, and mistress laughed just as I 
thought she would, but poor Nana looked 
as if she wanted to cry. When Ecum and 
mistress had stopped laughing, I heard 
Ecum say: 

“ Well, mother, you always did have 
your own way, and you probably always 
will, but I would advise you hereafter to 
let well-enough alone. You see, mother, 
it doesn’t always pay to give a monkey 
all the rope he asks for.” 


174 




Y O P P Y 


“ I didn’t expect any sympathy from 
you,” answered Nana. 

Then mistress changed her dress, and 
straightway put me to soak in a wash-bowl 
of soap-suds, and Nana, wearing a most 
martyred expression, took a pail of water 
and washed away all traces of my fore- 
noon’s work. Truly, the more you do for 
some folks the less you are appreciated. 


175 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XX. 

IN THE TIME OF APPLE BLOSSOMS 

The long, cold winter had passed, and 
once more the birds were singing in the 
orchard. The trees were lovely with blos- 
soms, and, as I climbed about among the 
branches, I was one of the happiest mon- 
keys in all the world. 

Every morning Ecum or mistress would 
take me to the orchard and fasten my chain 
to the limb of a tree, so I was able to frolic 
in the tree-top, or lie on the cool green grass 
with Freddy and the cats. 

Freddy seemed to think that he must lie 
at the foot of my tree and keep an eye 
on me. Dear, stupid old Freddy! I knew 
a great deal more than he did. Even the 
cats were more brilliant than Freddy, for 
both of them could climb trees, and Freddy 

176 


Y O P P Y 


could not climb if his life depended on 
it. 

I loved Freddy very dearly, and I loved 
Polly also. I should have loved Connie 
if she had allowed me to love her, but I 
did not care very much if Miss Connie 
would have nothing to do with me, for I 
was certain that every one else in the family 
loved me. My life was full of love. 

Polly had grown so large by this time 
that I could no longer hold her in my lap 
or carry her under my arm, yet we were 
just as good friends as we had always been. 

One day Polly came into the orchard 
and began rubbing against Freddy, as if 
she was in some kind of trouble. There 
seemed to be something she wanted Freddy 
to do, but Freddy, being only a dog, could 
not understand her rubbing and “ prow-ow- 
ing.” 

When Polly found that Freddy could 
not, or would not, understand her, she ran 
toward the house, talking all the while as 
if there was something on her mind. 

Freddy looked at me, and I looked at 

177 


Y O P P Y 


Freddy. Our eyes said : “ There’s some- 
thing wrong with Polly.” Very soon we 
learned what it was, for Polly came back 
to the orchard, and laid a tiny black kitten 
at Freddy’s feet. 

Freddy looked at the kitten, then at 
Polly, and his tail began to wag as he 
smelled of the kitten. 

It was a cunning little thing, so I came 
down from my perch on the apple-bough 
to pay my respects to Polly’s baby. This 
was the first time we knew anything about 
it. 

We all decided that it was a very nice 
kitten. I gave Polly a hug, while Freddy 
licked the kitten with his tongue, of course. 
Still Polly was not satisfied, but kept fuss- 
ing and rubbing against Freddy. 

Freddy arose from his lounging position 
and began to examine the kitten. It was 
a funny little thing, and made a great piece 
of work when it tried to walk. After 
Freddy had given the kitten a thorough 
examination, he sat down and assumed a 
very serious attitude. 


178 


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“ Whatever can be the matter? ” I 
thought, as I, too, began to examine the 
kitten. 

Presently Freddy began to lick the kit- 
ten’s face. This apparently pleased Polly, 
although I could not understand why until 
I found that, instead of having two bright 
little eyes, as a kitten nine days old should 
have, there were crusts or scales formed 
over its eyes, and Polly expected Freddy 
to remove them. 

Every day for a week Polly brought her 
kitten to Freddy for treatment. At the 
end of a week the scales came off, but 
Polly’s baby was hopelessly blind. Instead 
of finding two little eyes, there were only 
two holes. Poor, poor Polly! Poor, poor 
little blind kitten! 

We were all very sorry for Polly, and 
comforted her as best we could. Freddy 
was particularly kind, and licked her face, 
neck and ears, to show how thoroughly he 
sympathized with her, but Polly was not 
to be comforted. Then one day the poor 
little blind kitten disappeared, and not even 
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Y O P P Y 


Freddy could comfort the sorrowing 
mother. 

That night I heard Ecum and mistress 
talking it over, and I knew that Polly’s 
baby was safe from all suffering. Mistress 
was not like herself that evenings and when 
Ecum asked her why she was so glum, 
she answered: 

“ Why, Polly’s baby, of course. You 
don’t suppose I could put the little crea- 
ture to sleep without feeling dreadfully 
about it.” 

“ It was the most merciful way,” said 
Ecum. 

I do not know why it was, but I did not 
feel like romping that night myself, so 
I retired early, went to sleep, and dreamed 
that Polly had another baby, and that baby 
had a pair of good eyes. 

A few days later, while I was playing 
in the orchard, I heard the music from a 
hand-organ. I was fond of any kind of 
music, so I stopped catching caterpillars 
and listened. Presently the organ-grinder 

180 


Y O P P Y 


came in sight, and with him came a little 
monkey just like me. 

The organ-grinder stopped to play near 
our house, and I screamed and chattered 
at the top of my lungs. I wanted so much 
to go out and see that other monkey. 

My cries soon attracted the attention of 
mistress, and very soon I was on her shoul- 
der, while she carried me toward the garden 
gate. I lost no time in making the ac- 
quaintance of my countryman, or, rather, 
my countrywoman, for this little monkey 
was a girl. 

The girl monkey’s name was Florine. 
We made friends at once, and were chat- 
ting as sociably as you please, when, to 
my indignation, I heard the organ-grinder 
say, as he pointed to me: ‘‘ How much you 
sell him? 

“ He isn’t for sale,” answered my mis- 
tress. 

“What, not sell monkey!” said the 
organ-grinder, very much surprised. “ I 
gif you twenty-iife dollar for him.” 

“ I wouldn’t sell one of my pets for a 

181 


Y O P P Y 


hundred dollars,” answered my mistress, 
and I knew that she meant every word that 
she said. 

The organ-grinder looked incredulous. 
“ What,” said he, “ you no sell him for 
hunner dolla? You make no money on 
him.” 

“ That isn’t what we keep him for,” an- 
swered mistress. “ He is a pet.” 

The organ-grinder made a wry face, 
threw his strap over his shoulder, and 
started off, muttering : “ Mexicans make 
plenty money, anyway.” 

I was very sorry to part with Florine, 
and I tried to coax mistress to keep her, 
but she shook her head and said: 

“ No, no, Yoppydil, missy can’t do it.” 
Then she carried me back to my tree, where 
she left me, and I returned to my occu- 
pation of catching caterpillars. 

Presently I heard the clanging of fire- 
bells. Every one in the neighbourhood 
rushed out of their houses. The fire-en- 
gines shot down the street; boys shouted. 


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Y O P P Y 


“Fire! fire! fire!” dogs barked, and a 
general uproar ensued. 

I was very much excited myself, and, 
as mistress came hurrying out of the house, 
I screamed for her to take me. But she 
called back, as she hurried down the garden 
walk: “No, no, Yoppydil, missy will be 
back soon.” Then she went to see the fire. 
It was on the next street. From my tree 
I could see the smoke and some of the fire, 
and could hear the fii^emen shouting. I 
was wild to go to the scene. 

I was so absorbed in watching it that I 
did not hear the approach of the Italian 
organ-grinder until he had unfastened my 
chain, and was pulling on it with force 
enough to pull a dozen monkeys from the 
tree-top. I did not like the appearance of 
the Italian; his face bespoke cruelty, and 
I was very angry when he pulled my chain, 
but he was so strong that, struggle and 
scream as I would, he soon had me out of 
my tree, and was hurrying away with me 
through the orchard. I screamed as loudly 
as I could, and scratched and bit him until 
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Y O P P Y 


he nearly knocked me senseless with a blow. 
Then he crawled through a little gate at 
the foot of the garden and hurried along 
the river-bank. 

By night we were far, far away from 
my home, and I thought I had lost my 
dear home and my Ecum for ever and ever. 


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Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XXI. 

WHILE THE SUMMER DAYS WERE 
PASSING 

For two days following my abduction, 
that wicked Italian remained in the woods. 
I suppose that he was afraid Ecum would 
find him and punish him for stealing me. 
We slept on the damp ground at night. 
I would have run away had not my captor 
fastened me securely. He must have been 
very much pleased with me, for he told 
me over and over again that I was as good 
as twenty-fife dollar. He even talked in 
his sleep about it, the miserable sinner! 

Our food consisted of dry bread and 
water from a spring. Florine did not seem 
to object to it in the least, and she nibbled 
her crust with as much relish as I should 
have eaten fruit or sweet potatoes. When 
185 


Y O P P Y 


I sputtered to Florine about our food, she 
said that it was about all they ever had, 
except when the people along the roadside 
gave her peanuts or cookies. For my part, 
I could never get accustomed to such food. 
Had I not lived on the best of everything? 
Delicious bread and milk and my sweet 
potatoes, — would I ever see them again? 
And such luscious fruits as my Ecum al- 
ways brought to me. Do you wonder that 
it nearly broke my heart to be obliged to 
eat such miserable stuff as that stingy old 
thing gave me? How I hated that man! 
But what was one helpless little monkey 
to do? I must eat what was supplied me 
or starve. Indeed, it is a wonder that I 
lived to tell the tale. 

Nor was the question of food the worst 
part of the situation. I had not been with 
the organ-grinder but a few days when 
I learned that I was to be trained for an 
organ monkey. Only think of it! I, who 
had been reared in comfort and in an at- 
mosphere of love, to be obliged to go about 
the streets begging pennies, and perform- 

186 


Y O P P Y 


ing as Florine was obliged to perform. I, 
who had been accustomed to taking a nap 
whenever the inclination seized me, and 
those naps on the softest of beds; I, who 
had been the pet and pride of my master 
and mistress, must now submit to all sorts 
of indignities. I must travel from morning 
until night, whether I was well or ill, 
it would make no difference to that organ- 
grinder. 

Through the dusty streets, under the 
hot summer sunshine, we went, the Italian 
grinding out the same old tunes, while 
Florine and I were obliged to perform in- 
cessantly, turning somersaults, dancing, 
and capering about, and making clowns of 
ourselves, all to amuse a crowd of thought- 
less spectators, who cared only for their 
own pleasure, and did not care a rap how 
much Florine and I suffered from fatigue, 
excessive heat or cold. 

From town to town we went, gathering 
in the pennies as we passed on our weary 
way. I never knew the name of any of 
the places that we visited, nor did I care; 
187 


Y O P P Y 


one place was as bad as another; and it 
mattered not how tired we were at night, 
we were obliged to get up very early the 
next morning, and perform all day long 
again. It often happened that a number 
of organ-grinders would spend the night 
in the same shanty where we were supposed 
to sleep. On such occasions there was very 
little sleep for any one, for those Italians 
would drink and carouse nearly all night, 
and we monkeys always suffered the next 
day for want of our rest. 

In July we went to the seashore, where 
we found ever so many idle, pleasure-seek- 
ing people. There were ever so many 
women, who sat on the hotel piazza with 
nothing at all to do; the children, too, were 
thick as hops at those resorts, and every 
one seemed to be enjoying themselves. 

Florine and I always liked to visit the 
hotel piazzas. We almost always got some- 
thing good, either peanuts, candy, or fruit, 
but no one ever thought of giving us a 
drink, so that we were nearly choked from 
thirst most of the time. 


188 


Y O P P Y 


We spent a number of days at a place 
they called “ Long Beach.” It was on the 
coast of Maine. There a lovely beach 
stretched more than a mile along the shore, 
and it was very interesting to watch the 
waves roll in; there seemed to be no end to 
their work. I loved to watch the ocean and 
the ships, too. Sometimes the ships would 
look very large and near the shore ; at other 
times they would look like tiny white 
specks. There were days when the air was 
delightful, and, had we been cared for as 
monkeys should be, we should have been 
very comfortable. But other days the sun 
would pour down with such vengeance that 
it seemed to Florine and me that we could 
not live through the day. Then there were 
cold days, when the wind blew straight 
from the ocean, and it would be impossible 
for us to get warm. 

On one of these scorching days the ocean 
was very calm, and there was not a breath 
of wind anywhere. Our captor kept us 
performing in the dusty road until I could 
scarcely stand. How little that wretch 
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Y O P P Y 


cared for our comfort, so long as we gath- 
ered in the pennies for him! 

We were performing before a cottage 
when I noticed that Florine looked queer. 
She was standing at the shady side of a 
fleshy woman, who afforded her ample shel- 
ter from the hot sun. Just at that moment 
I was acting; it would soon be Florine’s 
turn. I paused between my acts of turning 
somersaults to look at her. She put her 
hand to her head and made a pitiful noise, 
then her body began to sway, as if she were 
dizzy. The next moment our little Florine 
was lying in the dust, writhing and froth- 
ing at the mouth. 

The lady who owned the cottage near 
where we had been performing seemed to 
know just what to do for Florine. 

“ The poor little creature is overcome 
by the heat,” said the lady, as she took 
Florine in her apron. 

“ Oh, my! aren’t you afraid that it will 
bite you? ” put in one of the spectators. 

‘‘ Not in the least,” answered the lady 
of the cottage. I once owned a pet 

190 


Y O P P Y 


monkey, and I know something of their 
needs.” 

The Italian did not seem to know what 
to do, so the lady told her maid to bring 
some water and a cloth. She bathed Flo- 
rine’s head, neck, and hands, and very soon 
her eyes opened, but she still looked very 
queer. 

“ You t’ink she die? ” the organ-grinder 
asked, as the lady continued bathing Flo- 
rine. 

“ Not if you take good care of her,” 
answered the lady. “ They are such deli- 
cate creatures that they never ought to 
be exposed to the sudden changes of the 
seashore. It is too warm this morning to 
have them performing in the hot sun.” 

The organ-grinder answered : “I t’ink 
Florine is sick.” 

“No wonder. It is surprising that the 
poor little thing isn’t dead! It’s a shame 
to have those little creatures exposed so. 
They ought to be cared for as tenderly as 
children.” 


191 


Y O P P Y 

“ I t’ink I take my monkey ’way,” the 
organ-grinder said. 

“ See that you take good care of her,” 
said the lady, looking severely at the Ital- 
ian. 

“ I will, I will,” he answered. “ I pay 
much money for her. I can’t ’ford to let 
her die.” 

“ That is all those miserable Italians ever 
think of,” I heard the lady sputter, as our 
captor swung the organ on his back, and 
took Florine and me away from the cot- 
tage. 

From the extreme heat that day, the 
weather changed suddenly, and before we 
had gone half a mile, instead of swelter- 
ing as we had been, it was cold enough to 
make our teeth chatter. 

The effect of this change on Florine was 
pitiful. I was nearly frozen, but Florine 
shook like a leaf, and cuddled very close 
to me. I put my arms around her and 
tried to protect her from the cold wind. I 
would have done anything for Florine, I 
loved her dearly. 


192 


Y O P P Y 


No matter how much we suffered, it 
made no difference to our captor. He 
kept on grinding out those everlasting 
tunes, and we, poor creatures, were obliged 
to give our continuous performances, rain 
or shine, hot or cold, until at last poor little 
Florine began to droop under the strain, 
and it was plain to be seen that she was 
not long for this world. 


193 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XXII. 

IN THE SHANTY BY THE ROADSIDE 

My heart aches when I think of poor 
little Florine, and what she suffered those 
days, as she pined away for want of rest 
and proper care, while our heartless captor, 
who thought of nothing but money, would 
urge her to perform when she could 
scarcely stand. 

She never fully recovered from the effect 
of the prostration on that terrible hot day. 
She coughed incessantly, and lost flesh until 
she was a mere skeleton. She was so tired 
and worn out that she was always thank- 
ful when night came, and then I used to 
cuddle and comfort her all I could, but I 
knew that my little companion would not 
suffer long. 


194 


Y O P P Y 


The hot summer was drawing to a close, 
so was the life of my little Florine. She 
was so sweet and gentle those last days 
that I loved her more than ever, yet I was 
utterly powerless to save her, dying, as she 
was, from exposure and want of care. 

It was the last night in August, a night 
that I never shall forget, — hot and sul- 
try. Our captor had taken us to a deserted 
shanty by the roadside, where we were to 
spend the night. We had often stayed 
here, but never before under such circum- 
stances. 

This shanty was a favourite rendezvous 
for organ-grinders. Sometimes there would 
be as many as half a dozen who would 
spend the night there. On such occasions, 
the hours were made hideous by their ca- 
rousing, and no monkey, respectable or 
otherwise, could have slept in such a pan- 
demonium. 

On this particular night they were un- 
usually hilarious. They had been drinking 
a great deal from bottles which they car- 
ried, and the stuff they drank made them 
195 


Y O P P Y 


more noisy than ever. They sang and 
danced, and made the worst racket imag- 
inable. 

There was no light except what came 
from an ill-smelling torch that one of the 
men had made from a stick, some cotton 
stuff, and some oil. He had stuck the 
stick in a knot-hole in the floor, and had 
lighted the torch. It sputtered and sizzled, 
and cast queer shadows into the corner. 

It was anything but a pretty sight to 
see those wicked-faced men lying around 
the floor in their drunken condition, and 
whenever they made an extra lot of noise, 
poor little Florine would cling to me and 
shudder. 

I did everything in my power to make 
her comfortable. She wanted water, but 
I could not get it, although I cried and 
tried to attract our captor’s attention, but 
he was too drunk to notice my cries. To 
make things more interesting, those Italians 
began to play on their respective organs, 
each playing a different tune. It was 
enough to drive any one crazy. 


196 


Y O P P Y 


After awhile the men grew sleepy or 
stupid; the revel ceased; the torch burned 
low. I drew Florine very close to me, 
patted her face, and held one of her fee- 
ble little hands in mine. I told her how 
dear she was to me, and then we went to 
sleep. 

When I awoke it was growing light. I 
found our captor bending over us. I held 
Florine still clasped in my arms, as my 
mother used to hold me. 

I spoke to her, but she did not answer 
me. Dear little Florine had found that 
sweet rest that knows no waking. She 
would never again suffer from want or 
exposure, but what would become of poor 
little me? 

I must have looked pitiful, sitting there 
in the corner holding all that was left of 
my little companion. I wanted to keep her 
little cold, stiff body; yes, I wanted to 
keep that little dead body, for I loved Flo- 
rine dearly. Even this comfort was denied 
me, and perhaps it was just as well. 

In the gray dawn of the early morning 

197 


Y O P P Y 


I sat on a stone wall beside the shanty, and 
watched the organ-grinder dig a grave for 
my little dead companion. 

The Italian seemed to feel bad enough 
in his way, but I knew that his sorrow was 
not very deep, for he thought only of how 
much money Florine had cost him, and not 
of any love that he bore her. 

When the grave was made, the Italian 
put Florine in and covered her with earth. 
How ditferent was this burial from that 
which Ecum and mistress had given a 
tramp kitten. There was no pretty box 
with soft lining for my little Florine, 
which showed how little the Italian cared 
for her, now that she was dead. She was 
just thrown into her grave and covered 
with earth, and I saw her no more. 

So we left Florine in that quiet spot near 
the old stone wall, near which the wild rose 
bushes grew. It was indeed a fitting rest- 
ing-place for my dear little companion, 
who had died from exposure and want of 
care. 

I wonder if the time will ever come when 

198 


Y O P P Y 


the Humane Society will prevent organ- 
grinders from carrying monkeys about, to 
make them suffer and die, as did my poor 
little Florine. 


199 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

AS THE AUTUMN DAYS CAME ON 

The day of Florine’s death and burial 
was a sad one for me. How I should miss 
her! Her presence had been such a com- 
fort, and, now that she was gone, I was 
very sad indeed. 

As usual we had gone on our weary way. 
I did not feel in the least inclined to turn 
somersaults or dance hornpipes, but I was 
obliged to do so, nevertheless, for, had I 
refused, I should have been whipped un- 
mercifully. 

When noontime came at last, I was very 
glad to rest. We had our dinner under 
some willows, that is, if you can call a loaf 
of stale bread and a piece of dried beef a 
dinner. I never ate meat; they say it isn’t 

200 


Y O P P Y 


good for monkeys, but I always nibbled 
my crust whether I liked it or not. Some- 
times we had water, and sometimes we had 
not. I think in those days I was always 
thirsty. Once, as we were passing the cot- 
tage where a kind-hearted woman lived, 
my captor asked for a drink. The woman 
gave it to him, but when she offered me 
a drink, my captor would not let me have 
it until the woman had given him five cents. 

“ You are a wicked man,” the woman 
said, as she gave him the coin. “ I only 
hope the day will come when you organ- 
grinders will not be allowed to carry those 
poor little creatures about.” 

While I was nibbling my crust under 
the willows that day, I saw a man coming 
toward us whose form looked strangely 
familiar. I stood upright and waited. 
Nearer and nearer came the form. My 
heart began to go pitapat. Could it be? 
Yes, it was Teddy Cartland coming 
straight toward me. 

As soon as I knew it was Teddy, I gave 
a scream of joy. I rushed toward him, 

201 


Y O P P Y 


but my chain prevented me from reaching 
him. 

“Hello! What’s this?” said Teddy. 
“ I really believe that is Yop.” 

Oh, the joy of that moment, when I 
knew that Teddy recognized me. I jerked 
my chain with more violence than I should 
have dared had not Teddy been near me. 
I struggled to break my chain, but was 
not able to do so. 

“Hello, Yoppy!” exclaimed Teddy. 
“It is you, isn’t it? ” 

“It is, it is! ” I tried to say, as I scram- 
bled up his trouser leg, for, seeing that I 
could not go to him, our Teddy came to 
me. 

How I hugged him! and such a pitiful 
tale as I told, while he held me close to 
his breast, and told me how much he had 
missed me. I tried to tell him my whole 
pitiful experience, but monkey expressions 
are limited at best. 

When I had poured out my tale of woe, 
not knowing what else to do, I began to 


202 


Y O P P Y 


whimper, which must have touched Teddy 
in a tender spot. 

“ You poor little chap,’’ he said, as he 
patted my head, then to the organ-grinder: 

“ Say, where did you get this monkey? ” 

“I buy him,” answered the Italian; “I 
buy him long time ’go.” 

‘‘That’s a lie!” said Teddy. “You 
stole him from a friend of mine in Dingle- 
berry.” 

I screamed with excitement, for I knew 
when Teddy was aroused that he meant 
business. I clung to him and danced on 
his shoulder. I was not afraid of the Ital- 
ian when I was near Teddy. 

Meanwhile the organ-grinder muttered, 
while he kept jerking my chain: 

“ Donello no tell lie. American man tell 
lie. I buy monkey long time ’go. He no 
name Yoppy, he name Florine.” 

“ We’ll see about that,” said Teddy. 
Then the hateful Italian pulled my chain 
so hard that I was obliged to leave Teddy 
and sit on that detested hand-organ. 

“ You be a good boy, Yoppy, and Teddy 

203 


Y O P P Y 


will get a policeman,” said Teddy, then he 
hurried away in the direction of the big 
hotel. 

I did not know what Teddy meant. I 
only knew that I was a very homesick 
monkey. The Italian waited until Teddy 
was out of sight, then he swung the organ, 
with me on it, over his shoulder, and started 
off in another direction. After travelling 
several miles through woods and fields, we 
came to a railroad station, where my captor 
bought a ticket for Boston. That night 
we slept in the Italian quarters in Boston, 
and I was the most miserable monkey on 
the face of the earth. 

But where, oh, where was Teddy? and 
why did he let the wicked organ-grinder 
carry me off again? 


204 


Y O P P Y 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THOSE DAYS I SPENT IN BOSTON 

The morning following our arrival at 
the Italian quarters, the organ-grinder left 
me in care of an old hag whom he called 
“ Mother Christella.” She was the worst- 
looking specimen of humanity that I ever 
saw. Her hair was black as night, her face 
was dark and horrible to look at, and I 
am sure that no animal would have trusted 
her. She wore a dirty ragged gown, and 
smoked a very black pipe. 

The room in which my captor left me 
was dark and dirty. There were no bright 
spots anywhere; no pictures on the wall, 
so utterly unlike my home in Dingleberry, 
where everything was cheerful and home- 
like. I felt very much out of place in such 
205 


Y O P P Y 


surroundings, and a more homesick monkey 
never lived. 

I did not olFer to make friends with 
JNIother Christella, neither did she pay the 
slightest attention to me. 

I was very quiet. Indeed, I had not the 
slightest idea of what was to become of 
me. I missed my home. Oh, how much 
I missed my home in Dingleberry! I 
missed my good food, and my daily bath; 
I missed Freddy and the cats; I missed 
Nana and my mistress, and, above all other 
things on earth, I missed my dear, dear 
Ecum. 

I was thinking of my home and my dear 
ones when my hated captor returned. He 
carried in his hand a small parcel, which he 
opened, displaying a bright piece of cloth. 

He spoke in his own tongue to Mother 
Christella. She answered him with a sort 
of grunt, and went to a box, where she 
rummaged a few moments. Presently she 
brought out a spool of black thread and a 
needle, which she gave to the organ-grinder, 
who began at once to cut the cloth. 


206 


Y O P P Y 

As the Italian cut and sewed the bits of 
cloth, I began to feel a little interest. It 
looked as if he were making doll’s clothes. 
To my consternation and disgust, I soon 
learned that those garments were intended 
for me. 

My captor had already insisted on calling 
me Florine, now he would add insult to 
injury by dressing me in petticoats. This 
— this was more than I could endure, and 
I rebelled most emphatically when he at- 
tempted to dress me. 

I screamed and thrashed, and bit and 
scratched, all to no avail. The hateful old 
thing beat me most unmercifully, until I 
was glad to surrender, and be dressed in 
girl’s petticoats or anything else. 

I had my revenge later, however, for at 
the first opportunity, while I was riding 
on the organ behind the Italian’s back, I 
tore the petticoat to shreds, and I pulled 
off the jacket and threw it into the street. 
Then I sent the cap flying after the jacket, 
and felt better. 

You should have seen my captor when, 

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Y O P P Y 


at our first stopping-place, he discovered 
what was left of my gay suit of clothes. 
There was only the belt of the skirt and 
a few strings, as if the skirt had been blown 
to tatters by a March gale. 

Furious! Of course he was, and poor 
little me had to stand the brunt of it. He 
boxed my ears soundly, which made me 
see no end of stars, then he took me back 
to the den of filth, and made me another 
suit of clothes: hat, petticoat, and jacket, 
in which I was dressed, and once more we 
went on our way. 

Just why my captor persisted in calling 
me Florine, and dressing me in girl’s 
clothes, was something that I could not 
understand. I have learned since that he 
did it to disguise me so that Ecum could 
never find me. 

On our way up-town we made a number 
of stops. I found no opportunity to tear 
my second suit to pieces. As the pennies 
did not come very fast in this locality, my 
captor carried me a long distance before 
he made another stop. 


208 


Y O P P Y 


When he did stop, he found that I had 
once more torn my costume to ribbons, 
and once more I was carried back to 
Mother Christella’s quarters, and beaten as 
I had never been beaten before. 

How I detested that man! I could have 
bitten his head off and chewed it to pulp 
if I had been large enough. I felt very 
wicked, indeed, as I sat rubbing my sore 
places. 

When I was in my happy home in Din- 
gleberry, where every one loved me, there 
was not in all the land a better-natured 
monkey than I, but with cruelty and priva- 
tion, and the common suffering that every 
organ monkey must endure, my once sunny 
disposition had truly turned to bitterness. 

I wish those good people who have done 
so much for other animals would do some- 
thing for the long-suffering organ monkey. 
There ought to be a law prohibiting the 
use of monkeys as money-catchers for those 
heartless Italians, and, believe me, there is 
no one who can realize the extent of the 
organ monkey’s suffering, even when the 
209 


Y O P P Y 


owners are at their best. In their hearts 
they think of nothing but the everlasting 
desire for pennies. 

The time came when I had not spirit 
enough to battle for my rights, and again 
was dressed and went about in petticoats, 
answering readily to the name of Florine, 
as if there had never been such a monkey 
in the world as Yoppydil of Dingleberry. 

The first two weeks of September were 
frightfully hot, yet I was obliged to wear 
those detestable rags, and to give a con- 
tinuous performance of somersaults, horn- 
pipes, and jigs until it seemed as if I must 
soon go the way of little Florine. I was 
so, so tired. 

At the seashore the nights were usually 
cool, while in Boston they were most un- 
bearable. We always slept or tried to sleep 
at Mother Christella’s. Such a place for 
a well-bred monkey! The smell alone was 
enough to make one ill, to say nothing of 
the filthy surroundings. 

I began to lose what little flesh I had; 
my strength also began to leave me. I 

210 


Y O P P Y 


wondered how much longer I should be 
able to do what was required of me, and 
how long before I, like Florine, should 
find rest in death. 

The fifteenth of September came, and 
was the worst day that I had ever experi- 
enced. The sun poured down on the streets 
of Boston with a vengeance. There was 
not a breath of wind, and the air was al- 
most suffocating. 

At noon my captor sought shelter under 
the trees on the Common; he himself could 
endure it no longer. We ate our bread, 
and, much to my surprise, my captor gave 
me a banana, which I ate with a relish, not- 
withstanding the extreme heat and my fail- 
ing strength. 

We stayed under the tree a long time. 
The Italian seemed very much overcome by 
the heat, which I was glad of. He ought 
to experience some of the suffering. 

I begged him to take off my flannel suit, 
but he would do nothing of the kind, so 
I tried to make myself comfortable by 


211 


Y O P P Y 


crawling under the seat, where I took off 
my hat and filled it with dirt. 

I was well supplied with water that day, 
for the Itahan went often to the fountain. 
I washed my face in the font at the foot 
of the fountain, while my captor drank 
and wet his head. I think that his head 
ached. I hope so, don’t you? 

Toward evening, when the sun hung low 
over the trees, we started on our way again. 
I know that my captor must have felt ill, 
else he would never have lost so much 
time. 

So up and down the streets we went 
again, through one short street to Wash- 
ington, then up another to Tremont, while 
the Italian ground out those tiresome tunes, 
and I tried to perform my silly antics to 
amuse any one who cared to watch me, 
while the air grew closer every minute. 

At last the sun sank below the trees. 
It seemed a trifle cooler, but I was nearly 
exhausted. 

We were performing near the old bury- 
ing-ground near the Park Street Church. 

212 


Y O P P Y 


There were a number of persons watching 
me. I played drum-major, danced a horn- 
pipe, turned several somersaults, and felt 
very miserable indeed, while the people 
about us laughed and clapped their hands, 
and I heard one man say: “That’s the 
cutest monkey I ever saw.” 

I cared nothing for his praise. I wanted 
to rest, but there seemed to be no rest for 
poor little me. 

After I had performed all the tricks that 
I knew, I stood on the edge of the organ 
doffing my hat to the crowd, while I tried 
my best not to drop in my tracks. I had 
made my most elaborate bow, and was put- 
ting on my hat, when suddenly I heard a 
voice call my name, my own name, A 
voice that I would have known among a 
thousand voices, and that I loved better 
than anything else on earth. 

My hat fell to the ground. I gave one 
heartrending scream. I scanned the faces 
in the crowd, and there before me was my 
Ecum. Dear, dear Ecum! He had found 
me at last. The next moment I was 
213 


Y O P P Y 


clasped in his arms, and I knew that my 
long weeks of suifering were at an end. 

My master Ecum had no trouble in prov- 
ing his property, for I myself was the best 
witness my master could have. 

The organ-grinder was sent to prison for 
a year, and I hope, if he ever steals another 
monkey, that they will give him ten years 
at hard labour. 

The evening following the trial, I ar- 
rived at my own dear home in Dingleberry, 
and, oh, how good it was to be there ! 
Every one was glad to see me. My mis- 
tress and Nana cried over me, and Freddy 
nearly wagged his tail off, while the most 
cordial welcome beamed from his eyes. 
And Polly, too, was so glad to see me, and 
purred her welcome in her own gentle man- 
ner, and rubbed against me until I was 
nearly smothered with cat hairs, yet, even 
cat hairs were acceptable after my dread- 
ful summer’s experience. 

We are a most happy family, and have 
everything that animals need to make us 
comfortable and happy. Nana saves all 

214 


Y O P P Y 


the bread crusts for the pigeons that come 
every day for their dinner, while mistress 
saves all the scraps that our cats and 
Freddy won’t eat. Mistress says: 

“ It is too bad to throw away or burn 
anything that a hungry creature can eat.” 

So every day she carries the scraps out 
behind the barn, where she knows the stray 
cats will find them. 

There is a little girl at our house now. 
Her name is Margaret, and she is a true 
‘‘ Band of Mercy ” girl. She has sunny 
hair and blue eyes. They say she looks 
like my Ecum. She is such a kind-hearted 
little thing, and does so much to make us 
happy, that I do not feel in the least jeal- 
ous of her, despite the fact that she sits 
on my Ecum’s knee, and calls him “ papa.” 

Yes, indeed, we are a happy lot, and I 
think it is safe to say that in all this world 
there is not a happier animal than Yoppy. 

THE END. 


215 


\ 




JUL 18 19C5 



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